


The Me Without You

by rookandpawn



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-02-04 00:19:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 70,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rookandpawn/pseuds/rookandpawn
Summary: Tessa Virtue is absolutely positive about three things:She is going to win an Olympic gold medal in ice dance.She has the best partner in the world.She hates Scott Moir.





	1. One

Tessa Virtue is absolutely positive about three things:  
She is going to win an Olympic gold medal in ice dance.  
She has the best partner in the world.   
She hates Scott Moir.

She’s mostly focused on number three as he stands one step above her on the podium with the most egregious smirk on his face. She’d punch it off if the whole world wasn’t watching. And if she wasn’t such a lady.

“You ok down there, Virtch?” he whispers, so that only she can hear. “Hard to see Olympic Gold from that far away.”

“Fuck off,” she answers loud enough that both their partners shake their heads at them. The team who came in third are smart enough to pretend they don’t speak enough English to understand what’s happening. Quite an accomplishment considering they’re from Edmonton.

Once, when Tessa was seven, her mom washed her mouth out with soap. The taste, that stayed with her well into the next week, is exactly what hating Scott Moir feels like.

At the Grand Prix final, their last competition before the Olympics, it’s her turn to stand at the top of the podium.

“How’s that silver medal feeling around your neck, Moir?” she asks on the way to the press conference.

“A lot better than that stick you have permanently stuck up your ass,” his answer is whispered in her ear.

This time the only thing that stops her from punching him, is her partner physically removing her from the room.

 

“I can’t believe they think selling their magical “romance” to the media is going to win them the gold medal,” Tessa says as she tosses the copy of Hello, with Scott and Amy on the cover, across Richard’s marble countertop.

“I think it’s an actual romance, not a “romance”,” Richard answers, his Quebecois accent faint, but still there, even after twenty years of living in Ontario.

“It’s still gross.”

They look like the perfect couple next door, smiling at her with their straight teeth and fluffy hair. Amy looks like a blond ice princess and Scott is handsome enough, if you ignore his total snake in the grassness. She flips over the magazine so she doesn’t have to look at them anymore.

“Regardless, I think the judges are more interested in their twizzles, than whether or not he’s going to propose at the Olympics,” he hands her a salad and a glass of red wine before moving the magazine into a nearby drawer.

She’s so grateful to Richard, who somehow manages to calm her down and keep her legendary temper in check. She couldn’t ask for a better partner. They hadn’t been an obvious match all those years ago. At six years older than her, and quite a bit taller, they’d looked more like a father-daughter pairs team than ice dancers at fourteen and twenty. But she’d shot up and matured, and they’d quickly realized that they’d never have any romantic chemistry. Instead, they'd focused on their athleticism, pushing the boundaries of how daring a lift could be. They’re the total opposite of Scott and Amy who ooze rom-com romance out of every pore.

“Do you really think he’d do that?” she shrieks. “That’s so… so…”

“Gross?” he offers and shoves her towards the dining table.

“Public proposals are horrifying.”

“To you, but I bet Amy would love it.”

“True.” There’s something about Amy that Tessa’s never liked. She used to think it was just because of her association with Scott, but lately she’s realized that there’s something disingenuous about the other woman.

“Can we please stop talking about the personal lives of our competition and focus on winning the Olympics?” 

“Please.” She drains the wine, the last one she’ll have for the next month and puts her attention exactly where it needs to be; beating Scott Moir.

 

“Even Sports Illustrated is predicting Tessa and Richard are going to win the gold.” Scott feels betrayed. He thought he and Sports Illustrated were friends. It’s two weeks until the Olympics and he feels like he’s losing his mind.

“Sweetie,” Amy says and rubs his shoulders. “Sports Illustrated doesn’t know everything. We beat them at Nationals.”

“And they beat us at the Grand Prix.” It wasn’t so much losing, as the self-satisfied look on Tessa’s face that makes him regret that competition.

“But the Canadian Fed gave us the final skate in the team event not them, so they must have faith in us.” Not only does Amy look like a cheerleader, she has the disposition of one, always finding the silver lining. He’s lucky to have her to balance out his too often dark moods.

“True,” he agrees, even though a voice in the back of his head tells him that the Fed doesn’t decide who gets the medals.

“You worry too much.” She fluffs his hair and drops a kiss on the top of his head before disappearing into their bedroom. He hates to admit it, and never would out loud, but sometimes he thinks she doesn’t worry enough. So he turns his attention back to the tape of their practice from the afternoon and tries to figure out how to squeeze a couple of extra points out of their lift. He’s going to wipe the floor with Tessa Virtue.

 

Of course the first person she runs into in Sochi is Scott Moir. She hasn’t even been in the Olympic village for an hour when she turns a corner outside the athlete’s dorms and there he is.

“It’s so fucking cold here,” she says, before she even realizes that words are leaving her mouth. Her body is so alive with loathing whenever she’s in his presence that her brain stops working.

He blinks twice before answering, “I think my balls are going to fall off.”

It’s the most civilized conversation they’ve ever had.

She wants to ask him if he’s nervous or terrified or both? If there’s anywhere she can get coffee? If the dorms at the Olympics in Vancouver were this shitty? He and Amy won the second spot on the team four years ago, she and Richard were third. He has experience and she could use some, but she’d rather die than show him any vulnerability. So they just stare at each other and she wonders how long it takes until frostbite sets in.

“Where’s Ree-chard?” he finally asks, drawing out the French pronunciation to a comical degree. She's not sure why they’re still having this conversation. 

“I have no idea.” They don’t actually spend that much non-skating time together. Friends but not that close. Scott seems to be waiting for her to say something so she responds with, “Yours?”

“Taking a nap.”

She honest to god snorts at that answer. The sound taking them by so much by surprise that they both bark out a laugh.

“I could never. I can barely sit still right now.”

He nods in agreement, like she hasn’t noticed how fidgety he is. It’s one of the things about him that drives her crazy.

They stare at each other again and he finally turns and walks away.

For some reason, that she can only blame on jet lag related insanity, she stops him.

“I want to win the team event. So we need to pretend we aren’t completely disgusted by one another,” she says and the punchable smirk is immediately back on his face.

“It’ll be the greatest acting challenge of my life,” he answers and licks his lips.

“That’s unfortunate,” she takes a step closer to him. It’d be easy to punch him at this distance. “Because your piss poor acting skills are the reason you’re going home with a silver medal.” 

“You..are..such…a bitch.” He takes a step forward with each word, so that their nose are almost touching by the time he’s done speaking.

“A bitch who’s going to win the gold medal,” she says and walks away.

Getting the last word, feels as good as she imagines the medal will.

 

They win team silver. She ends up beside him on the podium and she whispers a list of the ways she imagines killing him, while he deliberately-accidentally repeatedly elbows her in the ribs. The silver is nice but both of them know that the real deal starts in a couple of days.

 

The Russians win the individual gold. 

“This is bullshit,” she whispers to Richard as the bronze medal ribbon digs into her neck. 

The Russians, who barely hung onto bronze at the grand prix. The Russians who do so much two footed skating they might as well be juniors. The Russians who wouldn't know an inside edge if they fell over one. Those guys win gold.

“Keep it together,” he answers.

She can’t take her eyes off Scott’s face. She suspects the expression that he wears; dazed and pissed off while wearing a big smile, is the same one she has. He picks at his silver medal like it’s burning a hole through his shirt.

Their eyes meet and he mouths something at her, barely moving his mouth, but she understands.

“This is bullshit.”  
  
The skating dorm in Athlete’s Village is deserted when she gets back from a congratulatory dinner with her parents, sister and Richard’s boyfriend. They’ve already decided to go for another quad, but she’s still pissed off. Her head hurts from pretending she’s totally fine with coming in third place and all she wants to do is get into bed and unleash the tears she’s been holding back for hours.

She really isn’t expecting to find Scott Moir sitting on a couch alone in the lounge. And she definitely isn’t expecting to find him crying, alone at one o’clock in the morning. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to cry over a medal, so there must be something else going on.

She considers just leaving him there. Sneaking past him and possibly never thinking about him again. She doesn’t owe Scott Moir a damn thing. 

But her mama raised her better than that, and if there’s anyone who might, possibly understand how she feels right now, it’s him. 

So instead of running away, she clears her throat and says, “Are you ok?”

He doesn’t even try to hide his tears, just looks up at her and shakes his head. For a moment, she considers doing something stupid like giving him a hug, but suspects that this might all be some kind of trap, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who cries over losing gold medals.

“I asked Amy to marry me and she said no.” The words tumble out of him, like he’s been holding them in for hours.

“Shit.” It’s literally the only thing she can think to say.

“She’s quitting skating,” he says and then adds, almost as if he forgot. “She’s been cheating on me with our coach.” 

She wishes she hadn’t wasted shit on his first confession, because double shit does not seem like an appropriate answer at this moment.

“She’s going to marry him as soon as we get home.”

“That’s…” she manages as she makes her way over to the couch and sits down beside him. “Wow.”

They sit there for a minute before Scott picks up the nearest object, which happens to be a hockey puck, and launches it across the room with a roar that sends a shiver up her spine. The puck leaves a dent in the wall and then falls with a thud to the floor.

“Goal!” she cheers because she can only come up with completely inappropriate answers when faced with sad and pathetic Scott. And then because she can’t leave well enough alone, she starts to sing.

“So you had a bad day…” her voice is terrible and exceptionally off key, which seems highly appropriate given the circumstances.

He just looks at her, a justifiably horrified expression on his face and then he laughs. 

It’s the kind of laugh that makes you double over because you can’t breath. It’s the kind of laugh makes you cry not because you’re sad but because you’re laughing so hard your body doesn’t know how to handle it. It’s the kind of laugh that makes it so that everyone around you has to join in. Since she’s the only around, she ends up laughing too.

“Thanks,” he says when they catch their breath. She can’t believe the lounge is still deserted but imagines that everyone is either off partying or asleep in prep for their events. The lounge is full of uncomfortable furniture and smells like mold, so she can’t blame people for avoiding it.

“You can do better,” she says instead of leaving.

“You think?”  
“Her edges suck and she doesn’t know how to hold herself in a lift.” She’s never been a fan of Amy’s skating. Scott’s the real talent in that duo and has been holding up his partner for years, not that she’d ever tell him that.

“I thought you meant personally, not skating.”

“Oh, you can definitely do better there. She’s so…” Fluffy? Peppy? And then she knows exactly the word she’s been searching for. “Boring.”

“Are you really boring when you’re fucking your coach behind your partner’s back,” he practically spits at her. She appreciates the anger. Anger she can work with.

“I’ve seen your coach. She made the boring choice.”

“That almost sounds like a compliment, Virtch.”

“Your coach is an old troll. Don’t get too excited.”

He snorts, but doesn’t laugh this time. They sit in silence for so long, that she almost thinks their conversation is over and is about to leave, when he speaks again. 

“I’ve never been with anyone but her.” His voice is soft. So different than his usual cocky self that she isn’t sure how to take it.

“Well, that’s a real shame, because as much as it pains me to admit it, you are far too good looking to only have been with one sub par woman.”

“Sub par?” he smiles at that one and inches closer to her.

“She’s as basic as they come,” she whispers.

It’s the second time she’s been this close to him and it makes her buzz. She can actually feel the vibrations on her skin. There can’t be more than a half an inch of distance between their noses. So close their breathing the same air. If she moved just a little, their lips would meet.

But then the fog clears and she realizes this is Scott.

Instead, she places two quick pats on his thigh before jumping to her feet. Enough confessional time. He looks slightly dazed as she moves away and she’s a little worried she’s wearing the same expression on her face. “I’m sorry that shit happened to you, but you should know that I still hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he adds and winks at her. And she’s right back to wanting to punch him in the face.

She’s half way to the stairs before she turns around. Her brain is screaming at her that this is a bad, bad, bad idea, but she gave up listening to logic hours ago.

“You should have won.” 

“What?” It’s clearly the last thing he expected her to say and he stands up and makes his way over to her.

“You were better than the Russians. They made three clear mistakes and you didn’t make any. You should have won.” Even over her and Richard, but she’ll never tell him that.

“That means…”

She cuts him off before he has a chance to say anything endearing, “Good luck on the partner search.”

“Thanks.”

“But know that no matter who you end up with, I’m still going to kick your ass.”

“Right back at you.”

And he fucking winks at her again.

It takes all her self control, and the knowledge that Russian prison sucks, to stop her from wiping that smirk right off his face.


	2. Two

Tessa has never needed a vacation the way she needs the one that’s only two weeks away. Close enough to see, but not quite within reach. She’s in the midst of the post Olympics crash everyone warned her about, has hay fever and the usually fun Stars on Ice Tour is hell on earth this year. And there is only one person to blame: Scott Moir.  
She used to hate him. Now she’s actively planning his murder.

Not that she blames him for his bad mood. If she had to spend every night skating and pretending she was in love with the person who cheated on her she’d be pretty pissed off too. What she doesn’t understand is why he insists on taking his bad mood out on her.

“Who ate the last croissant?’ he growls at breakfast one morning. All eyes instantly turn to Tessa because skaters are bitches and no one else wants to be the recipient of his ire.

“I didn’t see your name on it, Scotty.”

Yes, she’s started calling him Scotty since she found out that he hates it.

“I swear you do this shit on purpose just to piss me off.”

She hadn’t, because she doesn’t pay attention to what he eats for breakfast, but she’ll take credit for it if it means he’ll turn red like that.

“It’s so delicious,” she answers and takes a bite that she means to be sexy but ends up looking pornographic, if the way that Richard kicks her under the table is any indication.

Scott turns redder, pulls at his hair and leaves the room.

He gets her back by leaving a banana in her backpack. Of course, because she doesn’t know it’s there, it gets squished, ends up everywhere and smells like someone died. 

While eating a banana.

“Did you do this?” she demands when he walks by causally snacking on another banana.

“I thought you might still be hungry after the way you were chowing down on that croissant this morning.” He continues through a mouth full of banana. “Happy to help.”

She throws one of her banana covered skate guards at him, only managing to catch the bottom of his pant leg. It leaves a smear of banana, so she considers the whole thing a moral victory.

 

The next morning she takes all the croissants and all the yogurt (his second choice for breakfast) and piles them up in front of her. They stare at one another as she eats four croissants and five yogurts. She has to throw up afterwards, but it’s worth it.

Four days pass and she’s almost convinced she’s won when all of her make up disappears. She turns her room upside down searching for it, considers the possibility that she left it in Winnipeg, before remembering that she’d used her moisturizer when she’d unpacked her bag only an hour before. She has to give him some credit, she’d only been out of her room for fifteen minutes, so he’s stealthy, if annoying. Perhaps he should consider a career in espionage when he stops skating. Hopefully in the very near future.

Going barefaced to rehearsal is no big deal. She's never been one of those girls who wore a full face of make-up to practice, she’s an athlete after all, but she can’t go without make-up for the show. 

“Nice look,” he says when she walks by wearing Megan Duhamel’s crappy vegan makeup later that night. “That lipstick is really your colour.”

They both know it’s not, the same way they know that her eye liner is not supposed to look like it was applied by a three-year old. The words in her throat are so trapped by bile and loathing that she can barely make them come out of her mouth.

“I know it was you.”

“Are you suggesting,” he says, holding his hand to his chest like an outraged southern belle, “That I, an innocent boy, from small town Ontario would be capable of breaking into your room and taking your stuff? I am offended that you would suggest such a thing.”

“Did you flirt your way in?” His smile is all the answer she needs.

He’s returned her make-up by the time she gets back from the show, but the vegan replacement gives her a rash that lasts for days, and the emails from Megan suggesting vegan alternatives last for months.

So you can’t really blame her for loosening the seam on one of his costumes just enough that they split in the middle of a lift during the show in Calgary. It’s especially not her fault that he chose to wear bright red underwear that night. The subsequent memes on the internet are also not her fault, but she does save them to a special folder on her computer, for future use.

The pranks and revenges probably would have stopped after a few days if it weren’t for the very special brand of hell she suffers through every night, which has left Kurt Browning second on her list of people to kill. For reasons that she can only attribute to insanity, he’s decided that what would make life complete, is a very special number in which the two ice dance couples skate to Wicked Game. Fair enough, she’s skated at the same time as Scott for years. But Browning couldn’t stop there, no, he decided that the two couples should switch partners and then spend the next two minutes and ten seconds feeling each other up. 

It can’t be considered skating. They’re literally just standing there with their hands all over each other. It’s basically foreplay on ice. It isn’t so much the actual choreography that’s making her crazy, she’s used to Richard running his hands all over her body in a sexual way and having zero sexual response, it’s the stuff Scott says in her ear that sends her over the edge.

“There’s something in your teeth,” he whispers as he runs his hands up her legs in Halifax, on the first night of the tour.

“No there isn’t,” she answers and runs her hand across his jaw. There isn’t because she checked in the mirror right before she came on the ice, to make sure there was no lipstick on her teeth, but his confidence is enough to make her momentarily doubt herself.

“Must be the physical manifestation of your failure,” he says as he leans into her neck and lingers in the spot where her shoulder and neck meet. She actually loses track of the choreography for a second, something that never happens to her. It is a sick burn.

“I had no idea you could string that many big words together, Scotty. Those online remedial course must really be paying off,” she replies as he spins her away and back to Richard.

She starts it on the second night. How can she not when he basically face plants two minutes into the show.

“That’s some fancy foot work,” she breaths into his ear as he runs his hand down her arm.

“Still more graceful than anything you’ve ever accomplished on the ice.” He plants his nose into her neck so hard, she swears it leaves a mark.

On and on it goes, through Quebec and into Ontario. The insults flow freely until London. He doesn’t say anything when he takes her hand that night. She holds her breath and waits for something really nasty to come, but it never does. Instead he just skates the routine and sends her back to Richard without saying a word. He barely seems to notice she’s there. It throws her off so much, she trips twice and can’t focus for the rest of the first act, that she’s compelled to track him down at intermission.

Usually he’s in the dressing room, joking around with all the other skater at a volume she finds obnoxious, but he’s no where to be seen. She finally tracks him down in a deserted hallway, where he’s pacing, half out of his costume and mumbling under his breath.

“You didn’t insult me.”

“Oh, yeah, no.” He blinks at her twice and goes back to pacing.

“It was your turn.” She hadn’t realized they were taking turns until she said it out loud.

“I’ll get you next show,” he mumbles and doesn’t look at her.

“Ok, cool.” It’s not like she cares. “I’ll leave you to your pacing then.”

“Why does she get to be happy and I’m the one who has to deal with all the bullshit?” he demands before she has a chance to take a step.

“Did something happen?” 

He’s been avoiding acknowledging Amy’s existence the entire tour, but has otherwise been pretty typical Scott, so this rant is something of a surprise.

“My entire family is in the audience tonight,” he stops pacing and lets his back hit the wall, before sinking to the ground.

“And they don’t know about the break up?”

“I didn’t tell them because I already felt like a fucking failure after Sochi.”

“And you didn’t want to add relationships to the list of things you’ve screwed up,” she finishes. She gets how his mind works. She hates him, but she gets him. He nods at her and she sits down beside him on the cold and somewhat damp concrete floor.

“I don’t really know your family, but from what I’ve seen, they are obnoxiously proud of you.” They’re at every competition, dressed head to toe in Team Canada merch. Which, now that she’s thinking about it, does a lot to explain his all to frequent clothing choices. “And they seem nice.”

“They are.”

“I’m not sure how you turned out to be such a jerk…” he swats her shoulder but smiles. “But clearly they love you and they’re going to be on your side. I bet they secretly hated her.”

“You think so?” He brightens at this idea.

“Her teeth are very white and no one is that perky on the outside without being completely evil on the inside.” She stands up and offers him her hand. They're going to be late for the second half if they don’t get moving.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You could avoid a lot of heartbreak in the future if you do.” She’s very smart. If only people would listen to her more.

“How do you do it?” he asks as they make their way to the dressing rooms.

“Easy. I don’t put myself in situations where I could get my heart broken.”

“So, you’ve never been in love?” he looks horrified at the idea. Of course he does, he probably watches lifetime movies over breakfast while he writes about true love in his diary.

“Absolutely not. I don’t have time for relationships, I have a gold medal to focus on.” Men want too much of her time and attention. She uses them for one thing and disposes of them before they can ask for more.

“And that obviously worked out really well for you.” He says loud enough for everyone in the dressing room to hear. 

“Better than how love worked out for you.” 

And with that, game back on.

 

After a few days off, Scott is back to his usual self and the insults continue in full force. Sometimes she actually has to admire both his creativity, and the fact that he never once results to body shaming her. On the other hand, she running out of interesting things to make fun of him about.

“Really?” he says as his hands linger on her shoulders before he runs them slowly down her torso. “My feet smell and I’m prone to flatulence?”

“I know. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’ll come up with something better tomorrow night.” She’ll also blame the lack of sleep on how disappointed she is in herself.

“I certainly hope so. Stinky feet aren’t even worth responding to.”

For a moment, she thinks he nips that spot on her neck, but she chalks that up to lack of sleep too. She’s definitely taking some melatonin and getting a good eight hours if her insomnia is making her hallucinate Scott biting her neck.

“I also said you fart a lot,” she whispers after him, as she returns to Richard, who looks at her like she’s lost her damn mind.

Maybe she has.

She’s sure she has when Richard shows up at her hotel room later that night. They never hang out after shows. They don’t really hang out at all when it’s not business related.

“We need to talk,” he says as he sits in the chair in the corner of her room, too proper to sit on her bed.

“Nothing good ever comes after we need to talk.”

“It’s about you and Scott.” His voice is kind, but his posture is rigid.

“I admit that I shouldn’t have put the stink bomb in his gym bag. I didn’t think about how bad it was going to make the bus smell.” Or how long the smell would linger.

“It’s not about the pranks, although it would be nice if those stopped.”

“Then, what are you talking about?” 

Richard looks incredibly uncomfortable as he takes a deep breath and says, “Listen, Tess, I know we jokingly call it foreplay on ice, but you guys are taking it a little to far. It’s supposed to be a family show. You have to stop feeling each other up during Wicked Game.” 

“What are you… I don’t know what… That’s insane.” She feels like her brain is short circuiting. “We don’t feel each other up.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“You’re the only person who thinks that.” He’s always been over protective and big brotherish. That's all that’s going on.

“Everyone in the cast agrees. Well, except Amy. No one is talking to her, so we don’t know how she feels, but if the way she glares at you is any indication, she’s also noticed.”

She definitely hasn't noticed Amy glaring at her, but she also hasn’t given Amy a second thought since the tour started.

“But you guys read too much into things,” The whole cast is a bunch of horny drama queens. “I’m sure no one else…” “There’s several tumblr sites devoted to your behaviour.”

“You’re making that up!” she yells, but she’s already half way to her laptop.

“We’re just asking you to tone it down a little,” he says as he lets himself out of her room. She just waves him away and logs onto the internet.

All the hits when she googles her name are about winning the bronze medal. She totally feels vindicated until she googles their names together and then all hell breaks loose. Metaphorically.

There’s picture after picture of the two of them doing “Wicked Game” and even she has to admit it looks pretty bad. And by bad, she means slutty. Scott’s hands are all over her in every frame. He’s practically cupping her boob in Winnipeg. And the expression on her face can only be described as orgasmic, which is definitely not the emotion she was experiencing at the time.

She’s up and pounding on Scott’s door by the time she finishes Virtuemoir4evah’s critical analysis of the progression of how handsy they’d been from the start of the tour until the present.

He doesn’t speak when he opens the door to find her there, clearly confused by why she’s visiting his hotel room in the middle of the night.

“Do you read the internet?” she demands and pushes her way into the room.

“Yes, I, a man in the year 2014, am familiar with the concept of the internet.”

“Har har.” It’s so nice that he thinks he’s funny. “Do you read about yourself on the internet?”

“No. People on the internet are mean,” he looks at her like she’s crazy. “Why is that vein in your head pulsing like that?”

“Because of this!” she stops herself from screaming at him, but not by much and shoves her laptop in his face.

“Did someone photoshop these?” he asks after a few of minutes of examining the evidence.

“No. They’re real.”

“I don’t remember doing that!” He looks horrified. 

“Neither do I.” She must have the same look on her face.

“I’m basically cupping your boob.” He drops the computer on the bed between them and turns to look at her. “I would never do that.”

“I know, because there’s nothing there to cup.” She’s heard it all before.

“No, because it’s inappropriate. Your boobs are magnificent,” he says and they both stop short.

“Oh, well, thank you.” She thinks she might be blushing, which is ridiculous.

“You’re welcome.”

It’s only then that she realizes that she’s sitting on his bed, in the middle of the night, wearing just a tank top and a tiny pair of pyjama shorts. And for some reason she can’t fathom, her nipples are hard. It must be really cold in his room.

“I’m sorry. Were you asleep? she asks, crossing her arms across her chest, and taking in his ratty t-shirt and mussed up hair. He might only be wearing a pair of boxer shorts, but she refuses to look down to double check.

“It’s fine,” he pushes his hand through his hair and makes the whole situation even worse. She wants to fix it for him, but doesn’t. “This is important.”

“Everyone hates me.” That wasn’t what she meant to say. She's not sure what she meant to say but it wasn’t that.

“What?”

“They’re calling me a home wrecking slut, who’s trying to steal you from Amy.” She shows him one of the tamer blogs. There are several who are saying much nastier things about her. Never him though. According to the internet, he’s the perfect man who’s been lead astray by her vagina.

He clicks through several pages of one blog, his face growing increasingly agitated. “This is disgusting. Do you want me to say something? Maybe on Twitter?”

“Are you insane? That’s only going to make things worse.”

“You’re probably, right.” He puts her hand on her shoulder and starts to rub her arm, but then jumps up like someone pulled him off the bed.

“We just need to stick to the normal choreography and people will lose interest.”

“So we should probably…” he starts

“… not insult each other anymore,” she finishes.

“Right.”

“Right.”

She’s obviously thrilled. It’s not like she likes being insulted. She’s been hoping he’d stop for ages. Obviously.

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up.” She takes her laptop out of his hands and heads for the door feeling weirdly sad. She definitely needs a good night sleep.

“I…” he stops her just as her hand is about to reach for the door handle.

“Yes?”

“I…I hope you have a good night’s sleep.”

It’s not what she was hoping he’d say.

“I will,” she lies.

 

They don’t insult each other the next night. Since they can’t insult each other, they don’t say anything at all and they follow the choreography like two chaste mormons on a parentally supervised first date. The internet decides they’ve had a huge fight and blame it all on Tessa. VirtueMoir4evah deletes her blog in a fit of rage.

Since they’re not insulting each other, there seems little point in bothering with the pranks. The last for dates of the tour drag on to an end. By Vancouver her insomnia is so bad she starts to hallucinate. Or at least that’s the only explanation she can come up with for the devastated look on Scott’s face when they say goodbye.

She’s never needed a vacation so badly in her entire life.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who's taken the time to read, like and comment this story. I've never posted anything before and the positive response has meant so very much.
> 
> Good news: This is a longer than average chapter.  
> Bad new: I may not be able to post next week as it is likely to be one of the busiest weeks of my year.

Paris is beautiful. She visits all the tourist spots and all the out of the way places. She speaks French and flirts with mysterious strangers. 

Paris is relaxing. She sleeps in until whatever time she wants and stays up as late as her body will let her. She eats far too many pastries and drinks coffee at three o’clock in the afternoon. She finishes entire books in one sitting.

Paris is anonymous. No one knows who she is. No one posts conspiracy theories about her on social media. No one mentions skating.

Paris is boring. After three weeks of alone time she is more than ready to get back to work, and if she never sees another croissant again, that’s just fine by her. Every time she sees one, she thinks about Scott Moir and she doesn’t need that kind of negativity in her life.

So, she’s more than ready to get back to work when her plane touches down at Pearson, where Richard is waiting to pick her up.

“How’s the competition looking?” she asks as soon as she’s buckled into his sleek and pristine Lexus.

“It’s good to see you, Tess. I really missed you too. Thanks so much for the souvenir you brought home with you,” Richard lets out an exasperated little huff.

“I brought you an Eiffel tower with a mime climbing it.” She always brings him the tackiest gift she can find.

“It will look beautiful in my bathroom,” he agrees and they’re silent for a minute while she tries to think of something to ask him about his personal life that won’t sound contrived.

“How’s Joseph?” she finally settles on his partner. 

“He’s experimenting with frosted tips and it’s causing the biggest rift in our relationship to date.” He makes a sour but fond face. If she were ever to contemplate a relationship, she’d want one like Richard and Joseph have. Devoted but still fun and where neither party has lost their sense of humour. “But we will soldier on.” 

“Is that enough small talk?”

“I suppose it will have to be.” He sighs at her again but smiles.

“What did I miss?” She’d purposely stayed off the internet for her entire trip and it had been great at the time, but now she’s starved for news and gossip.

“The Russians are officially retired…”

“Because they know they can’t beat us again.”

“Your bitter is showing, dear.” He lowers his sunglasses and judges her over the rims.

“And always will.” She can’t get over losing. She’s tried and she can’t and she really can’t understand how he can. “What else?”

“Rumour is Paul Poirier is looking for a new partner.” Richard’s voice and Tessa’s face betray exactly how they feel about Paul.

“What happened to Piper?”

“Citizenship issues I think.”

“That’s what you get for partnering with a faux Canadian.”

“You’re so weird about that…”

“What’s the point of representing a country, if you’re not actually from that country?” she shouts at him. They’ve had this argument too many times. 

Richard just waves his hand at her and continues his run down of the skating world shenanigans.

“The usual low level retirements. Some junior level partner swaps. Nothing noteworthy. That’s about it.”

She manages to stay silent for about three and a half minutes before she blasts out, “What about Moir?”

“I have to give you credit, you lasted longer than I thought you would before asking about him.”

“I see bitchy, Queen Richard showed up today,” she shoots back.

“I know, I’m sorry. I can’t say anything about the frosted tips and it’s coming out in the worst ways.”

“You can make it up to me by telling me about Moir without further comment.” She instantly forgives him, because she loves Richard with her whole heart and she fully sympathizes with his frosted tips ennui.

“Well,” he says and actually pulls the car over. “It’s been a journey.”

“Tell me everything.”

“So, right after you left, they announced their split, and you’ll be shocked, just shocked, to know it was all your fault. You should not look at your comments on Instagram.” He gives her hand a squeeze.

“Naturally.” It was part of the reason she went on a social media break.

“Perhaps, if you hadn’t participated in pornography on ice every night…”

“We agreed to never speak of that again.”

“You agreed to never speak of it again. On the other hand, I plan to bring it up as often as possible.” 

“Moving on.” 

A surprisingly large number of their conversations involve the phrase: moving on.

“A few days later Amy announced her engagement to geriatric coach and the tide turned in your favour pretty quickly. Well, except for a few of Amy’s uber fans, who still blame you.”

“Amy has uber fans?” She can’t imagine how boring a life someone would have to lead to believe that Amy was interesting enough to uber fan.

“Everyone has uber fans. And hers believe you have lured Scott away and Amy had no choice to but to throw herself at her coach. Your vagina must be magical.”

“You have no idea.” Her vagina may be magical but it’s been a long time since its had any visitors. There were definitely opportunities in Paris. Handsome men with beautiful accents, but none of them thrilled her in the way she needed.

“And God willing, I never will.” He shudders.

She doesn’t care about any of the Amy bullshit. The internet has been calling her a whore for years, because apparently she’s slept with every man she’s ever stood beside. Especially married ones. Richard used to try and defend her, but that only seemed to make people angrier, so now they just ignore it.

Nope, she doesn’t care if the world thinks she’s a slut. There’s only one thing on her mind, winning the gold medal and there’s only one person standing in the way of that happening.

“Does he have a new partner?” 

“I heard something about a try out with Elianna,” he says with a casual shrug.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Why not? Elianna’s a good skater.” Richard looks offended on the German skater’s behalf.

“Because she’s a faux Canadian and Moir is the most patriotic person I’ve ever met.” He’s also the most idiotic, but that doesn’t seem relevant to the conversation. “Also, she has a terrible temper. He needs someone calm to even him out.”

“Good thing he never has to skate with you.” he says with a smirk, as he pulls back on the road.

“Could you even imagine?” They’d be terrible partners.

“I don’t have to imagine it, the slutty image of it haunts me every time I close my eyes.”

“Can we go directly to the rink?” She ignores him, but suspects that porn on ice is all she’s going to hear about for the next month at least.

“I assumed as much, when you demanded I pick you up at the airport. Your skates are in the back,” he gives her an aggrieved look, but a fond smile.

She settles back into her seat for the rest of the drive feeling more confident than she has since the final in Sochi. Nothing can stop her now.

 

She should have known something was coming. The season had been going too well. Their programs were coming together seamlessly and without conflict. The first two competitions of the year are a cake walk and there isn’t a Scott Moir in sight to distract or annoy her.

It happens in the middle of practice on a boring Tuesday, because tragedy rarely happens when you expect it.

Richard pulls her up into an easy lift, one they’ve done a thousand times before. She’s up and flying across the ice…

Everything goes black.

Someone screams. She can’t be sure it’s not her.  
She feels nothing until all she can feel is pain. White hot pain up and down her side that explodes at her shoulder. She hasn’t felt like pain like this in years and it’s all she can do to fight back the nausea pooling in her stomach.When her vision finally clears, she realizes what happened.   
Richard dropped her. 

It hasn’t happened often and not in a very long time, but he dropped her.

A second later she realizes the screaming is coming from Richard. Her stoic partner, who never lets on that he’s injured or in pain is screaming. The storm in her stomach turns into a tsunami and she knows in an instant that her life will never be the same again.

 

Clearly, she is the last person Scott ever expected to find on the other side of his apartment door. He just stands there, blinks twice, opens his mouth, closes it again, blinks twice more, before letting out a slow puff of air.

“It’s really me,” she says and pushes past him into the apartment, when he tries to close the door.

“What are you doing…”

“What happened to all your furniture?” she cuts him off. His living room has one chair and a tv. There’s no dining table and as far as she can see, no evidence of anything in the kitchen. She has less than zero desire to see his bedroom, but would bet there’s an air mattress and nothing else in there.

“Amy took it all when she left.”

“What the hell? The person who gets left gets to keep the furniture. Everyone knows that.” She’s deeply offended on his behalf and somewhat concerned about his mental health.

“Did you fly all the way down here just to make fun of me?”

“I need to talk to you about something, but it can wait…”

“Wait for what?” he’s looking at her like she's crazy, which is not unjustified in this situation.

“How long ago did Amy move out?”

“February, right after the Olympics.” He offers her the only chair in the place, which is so infuriatingly like him. She shakes her head and he sits instead. 

“That was nine months ago!” she says after a quick calculation.

“Good to see you passed grade two math. I was worried for awhile there.”

“So happy that your lame attempts at sarcasm survived the break up.”

“I do hate you,” he says, but he’s smiling, which is even more annoying.

“Right back at you.”

They stare at each other. 

“So what have you been doing all this time?” This is the important part.

“Working out and watching Netflix,” he says with a shrug, colouring a little.

He does look good. Maybe even in better shape than he was for the Olympics, if that’s even possible. That's good news.

“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” she says finally, decision made. “We’re going out.”   
“We’re what?”   
“Going out. To a club. Somewhere classy,” she adds because she suspects they frequent very different bars. “So dress appropriately.” 

She needs to get control of his personal situation before she can even begin to broach what she came for.

“What does that even mean?”

She doesn’t bother answering, instead heading in the direction of where she assumes the bedroom should be. Just as she suspected there’s an air mattress instead of a bed, but she’s surprised to find the room much neater than she was expecting. She was sure he’d be a complete slob but everything is tidy with not a piece of clothing in sight.

“What are you doing?” he demands, scrambling into the room to find her standing in front of his closet.

“Your clothes are boring.”

“Your clothes are ridiculous.” He’s almost pouting.

“Don’t be a petulant child. I’m trying to help.”

“If insulting how I live and forcing me go to a fancy club are your idea of helping, I really don’t want to know how you’d hinder me.”

“Remember when that rumour went around about how you were born with an extra toe and that gave you an unfair balance advantage, and that the ISU should ban you? That was me hindering you.”

“I knew that was you!” he rants, as she starts pulling things out of the closet and then rejecting them. “Everyone was like, Tessa’s so sweet, she would never do anything like that.”

“I am very sweet.” She holds a fitted polo with potential up to his torso, and immediately rejects it. It’s at least two sizes to big.

“I had to prove I only had five toes!”

“Oh, cry me a river. You had to take your sock off. The trauma is real.”

“People still talk about it.”

“No, they don’t.”

“If you google ‘Does Scott Moir’ it autofills to ‘have six toes?’”

She ignores him as she comes to the end of his closet. “There’s absolutely nothing here I can work with. All these clothes are terrible.”

“My mom bought me those clothes.”

“You are a grown man, your mother should not still be buying your clothing. At the very least you should have let Amy…” she starts and then remembers some of the horrifying Forever 21 concoctions that Amy used to sport and changes her mind. “You need to learn how to dress yourself.”

“And you’re going to teach me?” He challenges.

“I guess I’ll have to.” Shopping definitely wasn’t part of the plan, but obviously the plan needs to be flexible.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks as he follows her back into the living room.

“I love to torture you?” 

“Why are you really doing this?”

“Because you need to get over Amy and the first step to getting over someone, is getting under someone else.”

“You’re taking me out to get me laid?” she just nods in response. “Did I hit my head? Is this some insane hallucination?”

“You’re not actually as funny as you think you are.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” he claims but his eyebrows beg to disagree.

“Grab your keys, you’re driving.”

He shakes his head but gets his keys and follows her out the door.

 

“I’m still not sure about this plan of yours,” Scott says behind the door of the dressing room in the nicest men’s store she could find a short drive from his apartment. He has objections to the plan, but he followed her there, so he can’t be too bothered.

“Have you been with anyone since Amy?” Of all the things she thought she’d be discussing with him, sex was at the very bottom of the list. The only thing more ridiculous would actually be having sex, but that definitely won’t be happening.

“No.”

“It’s been nine months!”

“I was grieving!” he yells back.

“You know what would have helped the grieving? Having sex.”

He doesn’t bother answering, instead emerging from the dressing room in the outfit she picked out for him. The salesman, who’s been trying to hover inconspicuously nearby, scurries over as soon as Tessa looks in his direction.

“I’m not sure I want to go to a club that requires me to wear a suit?” he says as he picks at the collar of his dress shirt.

“You don’t have to wear the whole thing tonight. A suit is an investment,” she says as she appraises his look. The suit fits him well, but not perfectly. She turns to the salesman, “How quickly can you have alterations done?”

“We do all our alterations in house,” the salesman, who’s name tag reads Gerard, gives her a smooth smile. He’s handsome, but she doesn’t have time for handsome men, “I could have them done by five. Will that work?”

“Five will be fine. That will give us time to get a haircut.” 

Before he has a chance to protest, she’s issuing a list of minor alterations.

“It’ll be too tight in the butt if you do that!”

“You’ll thank me later,” she means for the suit. But he does have a rather extraordinary butt that should be appreciated by the world. She hates him, but she's not blind.

“I’m not sure my wallet will thank you,” he says with a sigh.

“Are we sure about that shirt?” she’s picked a blue shirt, but now she’s not as confident in her choice.

“I assume that question isn’t for me,” Scott says and both Tessa and the salesman ignore him.

“For the suit definitely,” Gerard, who definitely just checked out her ass says, “but perhaps…”

“He needs something more casual. Texture!” she says and heads for a rack she’d had her eye on earlier.

“Your wife has excellent taste,” she hears Gerard say as she examines shirt options.

“She’s…” Scott starts and gives him the stink eye. “Yeah, she’s ok.”

“Very beautiful.”

“Sure,” he agrees, slowly turning red. She can’t tell if he’s embarrassed or angry.

“You’re quite the handsome couple.”

“Thanks.” Scott keeps trying to make eye contact with her but she deliberately gives her full attention to the shirts, even though she made a decision almost immediately.

“If you two aren’t busy tonight, I could take you out and then maybe we could spend some time at my place.”

Scott goes bright red at Gerard’s suggestion. She pretends to sneeze to cover the laugh that bursts out of her.

Gerard opens his mouth to speak again, when Scott cuts him off, “Oh, yeah, I totally would, but my wife is extremely possessive and jealous. She can be quite violent.”   
“I understand,” he winks at Scott.

“Darling!” she interrupts in her haughtiest voice. “What’s going on here.”

“Nothing, snookums. Just stay calm.” He’s trying and failing to look scared, because he smiling too much.

“Why wouldn’t I stay calm. Is there any reason for me not to be calm, Gerard?” Scott’s smiling-terrified look is making her laugh and she’s having a hard time staying in character.

“Absolutely not,” Gerard backs away from her like she’s a rabid animal.

“Well, I would certainly hope in a high end establishment like this,” she looks over at Scott who’s wheezing from his efforts not to laugh. “That one would not have to worry about one’s husband’s purity being compromised.”

“Purity?” Scott and Gerard stop short. She knew it was the wrong word as soon as it came out of her mouth, but she can’t back down now.

“It’s a part of our religion. We’re not allowed to know the ecstasy of human pleasure until we’re ready to take on the burden of children.” She can’t believe the words coming out of her mouth but she’s gone too far to backtrack now.

“And we,” Scott declares grabbing the shirt from Tessa’s hands and thrusting it at Gerard. “would appreciate it if you didn't judge us for it.”

He grabs her hand and pulls her to the front of the store, his shoulders shaking from the effort of holding in his giggles.

“We’ll be back at five to pick up the suit,” she calls to the stunned salesman before Scott can yank her out the door.

They make it back to the car before the finally break down laughing. Her sides hurt by the time she finally stops.

Scott regains his breath first and shakes his head at her, “I have no idea why you’re here, but life is definitely more interesting while you’re around.”

 

Scott is waiting for her in the lobby of her hotel, later that evening and for a moment she just watches him. He looks devastatingly handsome in his new suit pants and the more casual of the dress shirts she picked out for him. He’s holding the jacket carefully over his arm and his new haircut is perfect. He’d wanted to practically buzz it off, but she’d persuaded him to leave it on the longer side, just with more style. He looks great, but it’s the confidence that exudes from him as he leans against a pillar in the lobby that really draws her in. There’s something down right sexy about the way that man leans. Since several women in the lobby are openly staring at him, it should be easy to get him laid and to move on with her plan.

“Virtch,” he calls as he notices her at the elevators, crossing to her in three quick strides. He stops short and it’s awkward between them. This feels like a moment when they should hug maybe? A kiss on the cheek? Instead the just stare at each other. “I have to admit this suit is awesome.”

“You look good,” she manages, but she’s distracted by how close he’s standing and how good he smells. Did he always smell this good?

“You look good too.” He leans in a little closer and eases his hand onto her lower back.

“Everything go ok with the pick up?” she asks in an effort to get back on track.

“Gerard had a lot of questions, but I told him you were waiting in the car and that sped things up,” he babbles. “He gave me a twenty percent discount on this shirt. It’s really soft. Do you want to feel it.”

For some reason, she desperately wants to feel the cuff he’s extended to her, and then work her way up his arm to his chest, just to make sure the shirt is as soft as it looks.

“That’s ok. I believe you.” Touching him doesn’t seem like a great idea, given the way his hand on her back is burning into her skin. 

“I thought you’d be more dressed up.”

She’d opted for a fitted, black tank dress and her white leather jacket. But she’s starting to wonder if she’s made the wrong decision from the way he’s staring at her. 

“I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.”

“That might not have worked.” He swallows hard and runs his hand up her back before pulling it away and shoving both his hands into his pockets. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

“I thought we could start with drinks in the lobby. You didn’t drive, did you?” Her plan will work better if he’s a little tipsy.

“I Ubered.”

His hand returns to her lower back as they make their way across the lobby. The bar is both darker and more crowded than she was expecting, but somehow a table magically frees up just as they arrive. It’s a tight squeeze and loud, so she has to sit particularly close in order to hear him. He eases an arm around her shoulder, presumably to make arrangement more comfortable. 

A waitress appears out of nowhere and Scott orders a martini.

“I’m not going to judge you if you order a beer.” She’ll judge him, just not for ordering a beer.

“A classy drink for a classy new suit,” he winks and the waitress laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Tessa orders her own martini and makes a mental note to lower the waitress’ tip.

They’re quiet until the drinks come. She downs half her drink in one gulp, before reminding herself to slow down. The plan was one drink for the whole night. Regardless, the alcohol helps ease her nerves a little and she finally feels ready to talk.

“So who do you find attractive? What’s your type?” His eyes flick to her for a moment before he coughs and looks out into the crowd. “Blonds, I guess?”

“Why would you say that?” He’s almost offended at the suggestion. “Amy’s a blond.”

“Yeah, but it’s almost like I didn’t choose Amy. We just ended up together because she was my partner.”

“That’s… sad,” she means it in the nicest way even though it doesn’t come out like that. Everyone should get to choose who they’re with.

“I guess, but it also makes the breakup a little easier to deal with.”

“I hate to break this to you, but people who sleep on an air mattress are not having an easy time with their break up.”

She expects an insult back but instead he barks out a laugh. One of his curls comes loose at the movement and flops down onto his forehead. She almost brushes it back in place but stops herself.

“Who do you find attractive here?” She makes a gesture to include the whole bar, but he doesn’t actually start looking until she breaks eye contact.

“Um…I guess she’s nice.” he says and tilts his chin towards a small brunette in the corner who’s laughing with her friends.

“Brunettes?” He nods. “And small?”

“Shorter than me, I guess, but not waifish. Muscular. I like to know a woman can take me.” He tells her without breaking eye contact.

“Like she can handle all that you have to offer.” She doesn’t look away.

“Exactly.” The hand he’s been resting on her shoulder all evening squeezes and she can feel her breathing pick up a little. “But not that she just there to take. She should take control too. I like a woman who knows her mind.”

“So, what else?” she drags her eyes back to the dance floor.

“Someone who makes me laugh, but I don’t know if you can tell that just by looking at someone.”

“Besides you’re looking for someone for a one night stand, not a life time commitment. I think we can just go for physical attributes.” She has to stay on track.

“Sure,” he agrees but doesn’t look convinced.

They watch the bar for a few more minutes. Scott’s hand has moved from her shoulder to the back of her neck where he’s started playing with her hair. She should tell him to stop but that spot has always been her kryptonite. Instead, she lets herself close her eyes for a few minutes.

“Don’t you think,” his voice pulls her back to reality and she forces her eyes open. She can’t be sure, but she thinks he’s moved even closer to her. “That being able to laugh with someone makes all of the intensity of sex better.”

“I don’t really know.” She’s never really considered humour an asset in a lover. She’s always just looked for someone who could get the job done. “When do you want to head to the club.”

“Let’s just stay here for a while.” His voice is low and slow and she downs the rest of her martini in response.

They just watch the crowd in silence, only speaking when the waitress comes by to ask if they want another round. She orders a diet coke, hoping to regain her bearings and notices he’s barely touched his martini, when he waves the waitress away. He hasn’t stopped touching her. Her neck, her wrist, once slowly down her earlobe. Anywhere she has exposed skin. 

Without her knowledge, her hand has moved from her lap to rest on his knee. When she notices, she isn’t sure if she should move it back or leave it. She decides not to make a big deal about the situation and leave it there but stop tracing circles.

“You know what I like about you?” he asks, what seems like suddenly to her. She can’t begin to imagine what he likes about her, a few hours ago, she would have been sure there was nothing on the list. “The way you can insult me without resorting to the obvious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Most people would be unoriginal; accuse me of having a small penis or make fun of my nose.”

“I like your nose,” she blurts out and blames the compliment on her martini.

“It’s enormous.”

“It gives you character…” she has more to say but the way he’s stroking her pulse point is distracting.

“Amy hated it.”

“I think it’s been well established that Amy is an idiot.”

He lets out another laugh. She likes it, the way that she can make him laugh. The idea sends a shot of warmth through her. The idea and the way he’s shifting his hips closer. He’s angled right into her and his breath is hot on her neck.

“Plus, it could be an asset in certain situations…” That was an inside her head thought that somehow made it out of her mouth. Damn it! How strong was her martini.

“I don’t…”

“Intimate situations.” He still looks confused so she takes his hand, and rubs her nose and tongue on it. There’s a dazed look on his face by the time she returns it to his lap. She imagines that she wears the same expression on hers.

“Yes, definitely an asset.”

They break eye contact and watch the bar. She can feel him let a out a long, slow breath beside her. While they’ve been talking, people have started dancing on the tiny dance floor in the centre of the room, so she watches people gyrate against each other for awhile. His hand is back to playing with her hair. The combination of sexual energy from the dance floor and whatever the hell he’s doing to her, lull her into a trance.

“You don’t have a small penis,” again the words are out of her mouth before her brain has a chance to decide if they’re a good idea.”I felt it in Moncton. And Ottawa…”

“And Winnipeg?” the answer is low and right in her ear.

“Definitely Winnipeg.”

“We should dance,” his voice is gruff.

“We should.”

He practically lifts her off the bench they’re sitting and guides her to the dance floor, his body flush against her back.

She couldn’t say what song was playing, only how dark his eyes are and the exquisite pressure of his thumbs on her hips. Dancing with him is magic. He anticipates every move she makes. Moves with her almost like they’d been doing it for years. People get out of the way as he spins her, and before long the rest of the dancers have cleared the floor and are watching them. There’s a smattering of applause as the song ends and she pulls him off the dance floor and into the lobby.

“I’ve been thinking about the plan,” she’s says as soon as she manages to catch her breath. Her breathing is laboured, which is ridiculous. Sure they were dancing, but she’s in better shape than that.

“Virtch, I don’t want to go to a club and pick up some random woman.” It’s quiet in the lobby but he’s still speaking directly into her ear, his whole body pressed against her as if she wouldn’t be able to hear him.

“Any woman you take back to your place would probably turn tail and run as soon as she saw your air mattress.” He chuckles and rubs his thumb along her wrist.

“But I still need to get over Amy.”

“True, but one night stands can sometimes turn into complicated relationships,” she reasons, surprised that the image of him with some random woman makes her sick to her stomach. “And you don’t need that.”

“There must be some obvious solution to this predicament I find myself in.” He pops the p in predicament, runs his hand slowly down her side, and something deep inside her clenches. She maybe moans, but does want to think to deeply about it.

“I suppose that if you were to have a one night stand with someone who you know but who would definitely not be interested in a relationship, then that would be a solution to your problem.”

“And would you have someone in mind who might be willing to help a guy out?”

She can’t think straight, it’s like being drunk but worse, because she can only concentrate on one thing. One idea thrums through her body.

“I think I might know just the person” she manages to breath out and he’s already nudging her towards the elevator before she finishes her sentence.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I really just spend Mother's Day writing 2,600 words of smut. Yes, yes I did.

Given how heated they were in the lobby, she’s expecting the things to be fast and furious once they get upstairs. Especially when Scott grabs her hand a yanks her into the room, but instead he just stands there and looks her up and down. 

“I would very much like to take my time with you,” he says and licks his lips. “How would you feel about that?”

This noise comes out of her that she has never made before. He nods and takes a step forward to close the distance between them. 

The next things she knows his lips are on her neck. Even though she expected him to kiss her, he absolutely made the right choice. She briefly wonders how he knew that spot in particular drives her crazy until her mind goes blank with pleasure and she can’t think at all.

When she feels him move her jacket down her shoulder because it keeps getting in the way, she comes back to her senses enough to remember that she too has hands and she should be using them. She should probably start slow, explore the cut of his chest or the slope of his abs both of which are fantastic, but she can’t wait to get her hands on his ass instead. She hadn’t realized it until that minute, but she’s been thinking about his ass and how it will feel in her hands for ages. 

It doesn’t disappoint.

The moan that he gives her on the first squeeze, doesn’t either.

She works his ass while he lays a trail of soft kisses up her neck and across her jaw. When he gets to her mouth he stops and just hovers there. They both stop and breath each other in. At some point they start breathing together, and she takes a moment to examine his face. The soft light coming from the window highlighting his profile. Impossibly, he’s even more beautiful with his face cast in shadows. Beautiful is the best word to describe him. How come she never noticed that before?

“If you don’t kiss me, I’m going to punch you in the face,” she husks out.

His laugh starts in his throat and ends on her lips. And fuck all, if kissing Scott Moir isn’t one of the greatest ideas she’s ever had. If she’d known it would be like this… well it wouldn’t have changed anything, she knows herself well enough to know that, but she’s so grateful it’s happening now.

The kissing goes on for a long time. Kissing, exploring, biting. She feels like a teenager, back when kissing was all she allowed herself to do and it was the most exhilarating feeling in the world. Lately, she finds kissing a necessary evil. Most guys can’t kiss for shit, but she could kiss him hours.

Soon enough, his hands are buried in her hair and she made a thorough examination of his ass and his back. He’s pressed up hard against her that she knows the promise of Winnipeg was no lie. If she doesn’t get out of her clothes soon she’s worried they might spontaneously combust. 

“Moir…” she whines.

“Right,” he nods and reaches for the hem of her dress.

He wasn’t kidding about taking his time with her. The slow progress of his hands on her thighs as he pulls her skirt is torture, albeit an exquisite one. He especially lingers on her nipples as the garment reaches her head, his thumbs brushing gently over each already hard nub. She’s a panting, shaking mess by the time he pulls it off of her entirely, leaving her in just her bra and underwear. She didn’t wear anything fancy and she’s fully confident they don’t match, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Fuck, your body is amazing,” he breaths into her ear and then catches her earlobe in his teeth. She feels the moan that comes out of her in the pit of her stomach.

He runs a finger down her neck, past the valley of her breasts, finally stopping at her bellybutton ring.

“I have spent far too much time fantasizing about this.” He gives it a quick flick with his finger and her knees buckle.

“In the last nine months?” she manages to ask, even though his finger is drifting even further south.

“Since I saw it,” he says. They were teenagers and he was already with Amy when she got it. She doesn’t have time to analyze the implications of what he just said, because his finger has finally found it’s destination between her thighs and she’s having trouble with anything other than feeling.

He traces the outside of her pussy like it’s undiscovered territory that he needs to map. Slowly, gently, going back to the places that make her vocalize. Always touching her so softly. She’s never been explored like this, would normally be too impatient, but she thinks she could stay like this forever, until her pushes her underwear to the side.

They both groan as his fingers meet bare skin for the first time. She’s light headed and wonders if maybe she should sit down before she passes out. Instead she steadies herself by running her hands along his chest, a much more pleasant solution.

“I was thinking about what you said in the bar,” he says as his finger continue to explore her, driving her crazy with want. “What you said earlier about my nose. If you’re not opposed, I would very much like to explore that suggestion with you.”

“I think..” she says slowly, her mouth and brain full of cotton. “that would be an excellent idea.”

His fingers finally move down and he gives her clit a slow, deliberate stroke. She moans loud enough to suck all the air to of the room. She’s on her back on the bed, her panties on the floor and his head between her legs in an instant.

His mouth takes the same trip his fingers did earlier, only this time he already has the map of her in his head. Heading immediately to the spots he found earlier before taking her whole pussy into his mouth and sucking hard. Her gasp makes him giggle, and he releases her for a moment, to smile up at her. She can’t help but return it, before shoving his head back to where it belongs. Thank goodness she made him keep his hair long, because she needs something to hold onto as he gets to work. 

Between his nose and tongue, it doesn’t take long before she shaking and mewling. The pleasure is so overwhelming that she tries to escape a few times. But he’s relentless, holding her hips down and working even harder. She has to move her hands from his hair to the bedsheets, she so afraid of hurting him. When she finally cums it’s with a shout so loud she imagines someone might call the front desk. 

Her legs are still shaking when she comes back to herself. Aftershocks of her orgasm running through her body and her hands   
hurting from how hard she was holding the sheet, it takes her a moment to realize he’s still where she left him. He’s looking very pleased with himself as he gently rubs his thumb across that spot near her hip that no one has ever found before.

“You can do that with your mouth and she left you?” she’s indignant on his behalf. “What kind of idiot is that woman?”

He shrugs and smiles, “Thanks for the tip about my nose.”

“Moir,” she says and lifts herself up enough to unhook the bra, she’s still wearing and launch it across the room. “I’m going to need you to fuck me now.”

He laughs as she pushes him off the bed. He’s still wearing all of his clothes and that is completely unacceptable. She’s like to return the favour and explore him the way he did her, but she needs to get him inside her and if the way his rock hard cock springs loose as she pulls down his pants is any indication he’s in a hurry too.

Turns out Winnipeg was a lie, because he is so much better than she ever could have imagined. Long enough but not too, and so very thick. She makes an appreciative sound and he laughs again. Just pulls his shirt off and looks like he’s having the best time, which makes her feel almost as good as her orgasm did.

His smile is gone when she reaches out and touches him for the first time. An artist should capture the look on his face and hang it in a gallery. His beauty takes her breath away.

He’s hot and hard in her hand and she considers taking him in her mouth, something she only ever does because of obligation not want, is actually leaning forward to do so, when he stops her.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he says with a shrug, a blush creeping up his chest and face.

“Are you nervous?”

He nods almost imperceptibly, and she notices his hands are shaking a little. 

“I haven’t done this with anyone other than Amy in a really long time.” Scott without all his bravado does something to her that she can’t quite understand, so she stands up and wraps her arms around him. He melts into her, his head falling into her shoulder.

They just stand there, naked and pressed up against each other, for a moment. It’s so much more intimate than anything she’s ever felt before that it makes her uncomfortable. Makes her want to throw him out of her room, forget her plan, and never see him again. But there’s something else in that moment, in the way that he clings to her, the way he trusts her, that makes her stay.

“Then I’d say,” she says after their breathing has inadvertently synced up and his hands have stopped shaking. “You’ve really earned it.”

He snickers and palms her ass, lifts her up so that her legs are wrapped around his waist and carries her to the bed. His mouth his on her right nipple, his hand working her left before her back is even fully on the bed.

“I’ve been thinking about these since around the same time as I noticed the belly ring,” he informs her and dives back in. She could go on like this forever, his mouth and hands everywhere, but he’s hard and hot against her and she’s already coiling up again.

“Do you have condoms?” She certainly doesn’t and if he isn’t prepared she might scream. He nods with his mouth full of breast and it’s adorable and sexy at the same time. “It’s time to get one.”

He's up and searching through his jacket pocket immediately. Most guys look ridiculous at this stage of things, clumsy in their eagerness, but he’s still all grace and fine lines. It turns her on even more. He comes back with the packet in his hands and presses himself over her. He looks a little uncertain, and she realizes that he probably hasn’t had to use one in awhile, so she takes it from him and helps. As she slides it on him, he looks at her like she’s given him a gift. She doesn’t like the way that look makes her feel, so she slaps his ass in response.

He growls at her and thrust himself so his cock sits just at her entrance, teasing her, but not giving her what she wants.

“How exactly do you liked to be fucked?” he demands, that fire that was always in his eyes when they would insult each other back again.

“Hard and fast,” she spits back.

“Are you sure?” he asks taking one of her hands and placing it over her head. He eases into her just a little.

“Yes.”

“Because I think we’ve both learned that slow and thorough can be very enjoyable.” He takes her other hand and pins it above her head with the first one.

“Hard and fast.” she bites his bottom lip and lets go. He groans and pushes a little deeper. “I can take everything you can give me.”

His eyes flare and he rockets into her and then waits.

“My way next time,” he says and before she has a moment to contemplate the idea of a next time, he’s pounding into her and she’s meeting him thrust for thrust.

No one has ever understood what she meant by hard and fast, until him. He’s relentless, but still fully aware of her, every noise she makes. When he hits her at a wrong angle he adjusts immediately, when she keens, he doubles down his effort. Certainly the fact that he’s in amazing shape helps, but she’s had sex with athletes before, it was never like this. He just instinctively knows what she needs. 

The sound their bodies and throats are making are a symphony and she so close in an embarrassing short amount of time.

“Scott,” she whines, there are no words left in her brain. She doesn’t think she can hold back her orgasm but she won’t be able to move when she does.

“It’s ok.” He mouths at the spot on her neck he started at, every part of his body flush with her, his cock so hard and full inside her. “I’m so close too.”

He nips at her neck, and that’s all it takes. She screams this time, every part of her going rigid and he follows a few moments later, as her orgasm is still pulsing through her. 

“Shit,” she whispers, when she can finally form words again. He still on top of her, but she doesn’t mind. He knows how to hold himself so she’s not taking all of his weight and the pressure helps ease her down from her high.

“That’s what I was going to say,” he smirks and wipes away the sweat on his forehead. She reaches up and wraps a finger in a few of the damps curls. “Do you want me to move?”

“Not yet.” She runs her fingertips down his back and he giggles. “Are you ticklish?”

“Only after.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” she smiles and stops short. Why does she need to remember that? This is a one time thing.

When her breathing returns to normal and she finally feels like herself again, she gives his shoulder a little push and he rolls off of her. They lay side by side without saying anything and she starts to feel the pull of sleep. It’s been a very long and confusing day and it’s late.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks when she yawns, but doesn’t make a move to get up.

“You can stay if you want.” She still hasn't talked to him about what she came for. It’ll be easier if he’s there in the morning.

“This bed is more comfortable than my air mattress,” he admits with a shrug.

“I’ll have to write that in my review.”

He laughs and tries to kiss her, but she pulls away.

“I need to pee.” She jumps out of bed so she doesn’t have to look at the hurt look on his face. He watches her, as she grabs her underwear from the floor and a tank top from her bag. She thinks he might leave while she’s gone, but when she comes back out ten minutes later, having brushed her teeth, dressed her body, and calmed herself the fuck down, he’s lying on the bed in just his boxer briefs, half asleep. She guesses that means he’s staying.

“You better not snore,” she says as she gets under the covers.

“You better not have cold feet,” he counters.

“I guess you’ll find out when I stick them on your back in the middle of the night.”

“Guess I will.” he laughs and reaches out to stroke her hair. She lets him.

The sensation is the last thing she’s aware of as she drifts off to sleep.


	5. Five

Tessa doesn’t get to wake up to the sound of birds chirping or the sunlight streaming in her face, instead she’s forced out of a delicious slumber by the sound of Scott Moir’s voice demanding, “What the fuck happened?”

  
She was in a deep enough sleep that she isn’t sure about her own name, so it takes a few minutes to realize he’s referring the fading purple and yellow mess on her shoulder, and not their sexcape. He hadn’t seen it the night before, since they’d never bothered to turn on the lights. Must have been quite the shock for him in the daylight.

  
“That’s actually what I came here to talk to you about.” She sits up, groans and is surprised to find she’s not wearing the tank top she put on for bed. “Did we have sex again in the middle of the night?”

  
“I’m a little fuzzy on that too, but I think so.” He’s all ruffled, sleep soft and fucking sexy that she almost starts something. Unfortunately, her brain keeps trying to remind her about other matters.

  
“I’m still waking up.”

  
“It’s like watching a modem reboot.”

  
She hits him.

  
“There should be coffee,” she grumbles and he gets out of bed and crosses the room. “Where are you going?”

  
“To make you coffee.” He gestures to the coffee maker sitting on the counter and looks at her like she’s an idiot. Of course, she knows there’s a coffee maker in practically every chain hotel room in the world. It’s just that usually her sleep addled mind finds using one far to complicated. She hadn’t considered it but coffee might be an advantage to letting a man stay the night.

  
She watches him whistle softly while he makes the coffee, admires his ass and tries to make her brain work so that all of this makes sense. She suspects that no amount of coffee can do that.

  
As she drinks the coffee, he starts chanting “recalibrating, recalibrating” but waits until she’s halfway through her cup before he asks again, “So your shoulder?”

  
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about,” she starts but notices that he keeps getting distracted by her chest which is still bare. “We should put on some clothes for this conversation.”

  
After some searching, she finds her tank top buried in the sheets at the bottom of the bed. She pulls it on, and is surprised to find Scott still in just his underwear.

  
“I only have my suit,” he explains.

  
“Oh,” That’s a problem, because she finds his chest as distracting as he found her’s earlier. “Wait! I have this men’s shirt that I sleep in sometimes.”

  
She’s up and digging around in suitcase, finding it at the bottom, before she realizes he hasn’t said anything.

  
“Wouldn’t that be weird?” he asks as she holds it out to him.

  
“It was my brother’s,” she explains when she finally figures out what’s bothering him. “I don’t keep guys around long enough to steal their clothes.”

  
He shakes his head at her, but takes the shirt.

  
“Your shoulder?” he tries for the third time.

  
It’s weird how hard it is to tell him. It’s the whole reason she came to see him, but she still has difficulty making the words come out of her mouth. Sure, it’s hard to talk about what happened, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at her that makes her feel vulnerable. She hates that feeling, has done everything in her life to avoid it.

  
“Training accident,” she finally forces the words out.

  
“Must have been one hell of an accident.” His eyes haven’t left her shoulder, but he takes her hand. She wants to reject it, but somehow needs it.

  
“I was in a lift when Richard’s achilles tendon ruptured. He went down and couldn’t do anything to stop me from falling.” She sounds so calm as she describes it to him, but just thinking about that day makes her feel dizzy.

  
“Are you ok?” he asks carefully. She can read the horror his feeling on his face. No one ever wants to drop their partner. To cause them injury.

  
“Bruised and still a little sore, but fine.”

  
“Richard?” he asks, but she can tell he already knows the answer.

  
“It’s a career ender.”

  
_“Hey,” she says as she carefully enters Richard’s hospital room. It’s been two days since their accident but the first time she’s been able to see him. “How 're you feeling?”_

  
_“They’ve got me on the good stuff, so I’m not in any pain right now,” he says as he waves her over to the bed. “I’m a little fuzzy, but I can’t tell if that’s from the meds or the concussion.”_

  
_“You were always a little fuzzy, so it’s probably just your personality,” she goes for the joke and Richard being Richard laughs even though he never actually finds her funny._

  
_“How are you?”_

  
_“This is all for show,” she says referring to the sling the doctors insist she has to wear for a week. “But my bruises are spectacular.”_

  
_“I’m so sorry.”_

  
_“What a stupid thing to apologize for. As if you would ever drop me on purpose.” She looks for something to do, to somehow make this less awkward and finally settles on pouring him a glass of water. “So, I figure we take the rest of this season off while you rehab…”_

  
_“Tess…”_

  
_“Which should make everyone really complacent, thinking we’re not a threat and all, and then next season we come back…”_

  
_“Tess, I’m not coming back,” he says firmly._

  
_“The surgery…”_

  
_“I’m thirty one,” he says and waits for her to sit down before he continues. “I don’t have it in me to keep going.”_

  
_“That’s the concussion talking.”_

  
_“That’s reality talking.”_

  
_“So, I guess it’s over then.” She’ll have to start thinking about the rest of her life, something she thought she’d be able to put off for another four years._

  
_“It doesn’t have to be for you.”_

  
_“I think it might be too late for me to switch to singles.” Maybe she could go to school and finally finish her degree. She always meant to._

  
_“I meant another partner.”_

  
She takes a deep breath and spits out the words before she loses her courage again,“I came here to ask you if you’d be interested in being my partner.”

  
He just stares at her for a minute as if she’s speaking a foreign language. “Partners in what?”

  
“Skating, you idiot.” Why did she think this was a good idea again?

  
“Oh,” he jumps off the bed and starts pacing the room. “What?”

  
“You think it’s a bad idea.” Fuck, she should have just retired.

  
“I don’t know if I can think right now.” He stops pacing, stares at her and starts pacing again.

  
“You’re surprised.”

  
“If you told me you’d come here to recruit me for the CIA, I couldn’t have been more surprised.”

  
“We can’t join the CIA, we’re Canadian.” She shouldn’t have said it but she just can’t help herself.

  
“You know what I mean.” This time he sits down on the bed, runs his hands through his hair, making it stand up in every direction, and then starts pacing again. “I was going to retire.”

  
“Really?” His confession shocks her. They might not have much in common, but he’s a true competitor like her, and there’s no way he’s going to be happy until he gets the gold.

  
“I don’t want to,” he says it with so much desperation and she gets it. It’s the same desperation that made her fly down to see him. “I’ve been on three different tryouts and there’s just no…”

  
“Magic?”

  
“Yeah, magic.” He stops moving, actually stands stock still and smiles at her.

  
“We could be magic.” He doesn’t answer her declaration, but instead looks at the chaotic bed, back at her face and smirks. “Look, I know we still hate each other.”

  
“We do?” The smirk disappears. “Ok, sure.”

  
“But plenty of partners hate each other.”

  
“Like who?”

  
“Barbara and Maurizio, Nikita and Igor, Madison and Zach…”

  
“Madi and Zach are dating.”

  
“Like that’s going to last, and then they’re going to hate each other.”

  
They both nod at that conclusion.

  
“Listen, I know you felt it when we were skating together during Wicked Game.”

  
“I definitely felt something.” The smirk is back.

  
“No, I felt something. You felt magic.”

  
“I did.” This smile is softer, full of promise. She likes it better.

  
She didn’t realize it at the time, but there was something special about how they skated together, that had nothing to do with pornography on ice. The way he knew exactly where to put his hands so she felt safe. The way she could tell how he was going to shift just be the sound of his breathing. She never felt like that with Richard. With him the comfort of partnership came after years and years of hard work and even then, they still had their moments when their communication would go wrong. If she and Scott have that already, the hard work she knows they’re both willing to put in will make them unstoppable.

  
“Why me?” This time he sits down on the bed and stays.

“Well, it was you or Paul Poirier, and I’d rather rather retire than skate with him.”

  
“What happened to Piper?”

  
“I heard citizenship issues.”

  
“That’s what you get for skating with faux Canadians,” he says with a shrug.

  
“That’s what I said.” She hits him in the chest.

  
“What’s his deal, anyway? Why is he always running into people during group practice?”

  
“It’s not really people. It’s mostly just you. I think he might have a crush on you.” She has no idea what Paul’s sexuality is, doesn’t have any need to find out, but the way that he focuses on Scott would suggest there are some serious feelings there.

  
“That would explain a lot.” He’s completely unfazed by the suggestion, which is something she really likes about him. “But seriously, why me?”

  
“Because you’re the best.” He blushes and shakes his head. “You are. When people call you the talent of a generation they aren’t kidding.”

  
“Thanks,” he says finally.

  
“But if you ever tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it.”

  
He laughs and says, “I expect no less.”

  
“And I’m the best option available. And I’ll work harder than anyone else.”

  
“Is that really what you think? That you’re just the best option available?” He looks so disappointed when she nods her head. “You’re amazing. The way you move? I’ve been jealous of Richard for years.”

  
The praise and the look on his face make her uncomfortable, so she barrels on ahead, “So, are you in?”

  
There’s this uncomfortable, sick feeling in her stomach that works it’s way up her body, into her throat. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if he says no. Has no real back up plan.

  
“Let’s say in theory, I am.” He stops her hands which are picking at a loose thread on the comforter and holds them in his. He gives her the biggest smile, and the sick feeling just melts away. “But there’s a lot we have to discuss.”

  
“Great.” It’s her turn to jump up and pace. “How about we take a couple hours, regroup, shower…”

  
He snorts and gives her a look.

  
“You will shower at your house and I will shower here. Get changed and meet at a restaurant? We’ll get distracted here.” She’s definitely distracted by how fuckable he looks stretched out on her bed.

  
“Sounds like a plan.”

  
There’s this awkward moment when he’s leaving, where neither of them are sure how to say goodbye. Finally they settle on a half hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  
“I want my shirt back,” she calls to him down the hall.

  
He gives her the finger and for the first time since she arrived it feels like her plan is back on track.

 

She immediately crawled back into bed as soon as he left, and managed an hour nap before she had to shower and get ready to go. She doesn’t dress to impress, instead opting to toss her wet hair into a bun and throw on sweatpants and a t-shirt.

  
The restaurant that Scott picks is surprisingly bright and cheerful and not too far from her hotel. He’s not there when she arrives, so she finds a table near the back and orders the biggest coffee they have. He walks in a few minutes later and nods at the waiter, who greets him with a familiar smile.

  
“Hi,” he says as he sits. The waitress immediately sets a glass of orange juice down in front of him and disappears.

  
“You come here a lot?”

  
“I used to, with, um, Amy.” He doesn’t touch his orange juice, instead rubbing his hands down his thighs.

  
“Are you going to say no?” she blurts out when she finally figures out that he’s nervous.

  
“I wasn’t…why do you think that?” He takes a huge glut of his orange juice.

  
“Why are you so nervous?”

  
“Virtch, we’re talking about changing our whole lives.”

  
She hadn’t thought about it like that, but now that he says it out loud she’s nervous too. It’s been just under two weeks since the accident, maybe this is all moving too quickly.

  
“Take a deep breath,” he says when he notices her panic.

  
“We’re going to need pancakes for this.”

  
“Carbs make everything better,” he agrees.

  
“So…” she starts but is interrupted by the return of the waitress.

  
“Hey Scott,” she says with an easy smile. “Is Amy on her way? She was in here the other day with her father.”

Tessa expects and her suspicions are confirmed by the look on Scott's face that it was Amy's fiance and not her father.

  
“We’re not…” The words babble out of him almost as if he has no control over them and he turns bright red.

  
“Oh, right, sorry.” The waitress’ eyes dart between her and Scott and the wrong realization dawns on her face. “I was wondering why you guys hadn’t…Anyway, can I take your order?”

  
“We’re going to need a giant stack of pancakes,” Tessa says before things can get anymore awkward. She might as well enjoy indulgent eating for the remaining time she’s not actively training. “And bacon.”

  
The waitress scampers off with a relieved sigh. A Tessa whistles an off key version “You Had a Bad Day”, and the look on Scott’s face as he realizes what she’s doing, followed by his snort of laughter, is worth the embarrassment of everyone in the restaurant staring at them.

  
“Never having to have that conversation again is a definite reason to accept your offer.”

  
“You’re thinking about it?”

  
“More than thinking about it, but there’s a lot we need to figure out before I can say yes.”

  
“So then let’s figure it out.” For the first time, she really thinks this crazy idea might work. He reaches into his jean jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. “Did you make a list of things to talk to me about?”

  
“I wanted to be prepared.” He shakes his head at her and unfolds the paper. “First on the list is coach.”

  
“Obviously, your’s is out.” As entertaining as it would be to watch how uncomfortable he would be around Amy’s finance, even she isn’t up for that amount of drama.

  
“Obviously.” Horror flits across his face before he returns to the business like expression. “And I don’t think I’d be comfortable with your coach.”

  
“No we need someone new.” Truthfully, her coach, while lovely, hasn’t pushed her in the way she needs in years. “Do you have someone in mind?”

  
“I was thinking about Gadbois.” he says carefully, watching for her reaction. “Marie and Patch have always had my back and I’m interested in their approach.”

  
It’s exactly the answer she was hoping for, but she needs to be the voice of reason too. “All of our main competition trains there.”

  
“Looks like the French are going to make a big move this year.” His eyes meet hers and silent understanding passes between them. The French team are good, but she’s not sure how much of their positive results so far this season are due to improved technique and how much is due to political maneuvering.

  
“We could use the competition to push us,” she suggests and he nods in agreement.

  
“So, Montreal.” He takes out a pencil and checks of the first thing on his list. He’s such a dork.

  
“If they’ll take us.”

  
“They’ll take us,” he says it with so much confidence that she’s already packing in her mind. She’ll be further from home, no longer in the same city as her sister, but the change could be good for her.

  
“What’s next?”

  
“Style.”  
“I’m not doing that fake romance crap that you and Amy are so fond of,” she says immediately. Scott and Amy were so saccharine, they made her teeth hurt.

  
“And I’m not up for that weird abstract shit you and Richard were into,” he shoots back. It’s their first argument in hours and it makes her blood sing.

  
“Yeah, because you couldn’t pull it off.”

  
“And no one would ever be dumb enough to believe we were in love.”

  
The smile at each other and put the insults aside.

  
“So what should our style be,” he asks as the waitress delivers their food, refuses to make eye contact and leaves.

  
“Sex,” she answers and he actually spits out the piece of pancake he had in his mouth. “People were very interested in Wicked Game and it will get their attention.”

  
“You sure you can handle the tension?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

  
“I’ll get through.” Her voice is so full of sarcasm that it drips onto the table.

  
They debate several other topics while finishing their breakfast, mostly agreeing and finding it easy to compromise on everything else. Every item on Scott’s list has a check beside it, by the time their plates are empty.

  
“What about you? What’s on your list?” he asks.

  
She didn’t come with a list like him, but they’ve already gone through most of the items on her mind. There’s only one thing left to talk about.

  
“No distractions.”

  
“What do you mean?” It’s clear from his tone that he already has an idea.

  
“Just you and me. No outside relationships, no side projects. We put everything we have into this and we only have one goal.”

  
“Olympic gold.”

  
“And we do everything we can to get there. Therapy, training, diet, whatever it takes.” He nods in agreement as she talks. “And we can’t…”

  
“Sleep together again,” he finishes.

  
“On the lists of distractions, that would definitely be at the top.”

  
The both sit in silence for a moment. She almost wishes she’d never had sex with him. It would be easier if she didn’t know how good it can be. But she wouldn’t actually change it for the world. It was worth every minute, and if she’s completely honest, will give her plenty to work with over the next three years.

  
“So, what do you think?” she asks, as the waitress slides the bill onto the table.

  
“I was thinking about how you said the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else,” he says and slides his hand up her thigh. “And how I never actually got under anyone.”

  
“Right. How it might be detrimental to your recovery and a roadblock to our partnership if you didn’t follow through with your prescribed therapy.” She leans forward into his hand.

  
“And since I haven’t actually agreed to being your partner yet…”

  
“We wouldn’t be breaking any rules.”

  
He throws some cash on the table and leads her out of the restaurant.

  
Several hours later, the official partnership of Virtue and Moir begins.


	6. Six

_Hello everybody, I’m Dave Leese…_  
_And I’m Jonathon Beyer_  
_And this is the Skating Lesson. Obviously, the first thing we need to discuss is the announcement of Canada’s newest ice dance team Virtue and Moir. What do we think about this pairing? I for one was shocked…_  
_I was always under the impression that they hated each other._  
_Well, according to official sources Team Canada, everyone was just one big family, and Scott and Tessa were besties, but everyone knows that they totally hated each other._  
_Although, they certainly looked friendly enough during Stars on Ice this year._  
_Didn’t they just._  
_Tessa’s always been known to be friendly, so it can’t be much of a surprise. Just ask…_

“Salty bitches,” she mumbles as she slams the lid of her computer closed. She knows better than to pay attention to all the crap on the internet, but somehow she can’t make herself stop. Luckily, her phone rings before she can go back and read the comments.

  
“Virtch!” Scott yells before she has a chance to say hello. “I’m downstairs. Buzz me in.”

  
She buzzes him and gets nervous all over again. They’d decided she was in charge of finding them a place to live in Montreal, mostly because she was genuinely concerned about what kind of neighbourhood he would deem acceptable. So when she’d found a place that was easy walking distance from the rink, recently renovated, and had several vacant apartments, it seemed only natural to rent for both of them.

  
But now, she’s really starting to regret her decision. They’ll be spending an obscene amount of time together at the rink, does she really want to be in that close proximity of someone she hates in her downtime?

  
She opens her door to find him covered in a light dusting of snow and with a huge smile on his face. They’d decided to wait until the holidays were over, before they started training, rather than be interrupted with a break shortly after they started. She’d arrived in Montreal on the 30th and spent a quiet New Year’s Eve alone watching Netflix. Scott had waited until the last possible second to arrive, wanting to get in as much time with his family before heavy training began.

  
He’d called her right at midnight on the 31st, claiming he wanted to start the year the way he intended to end it. She been both touched and confused by the gesture.

  
“I’ll show you your place and then I can help you bring up the rest of your stuff,” she says suddenly when she realizes she’d just been staring at him for a solid minute.

  
“This is everything.” Everything includes a backpack, two rolling suitcases and a box, which he’s just barely managing to keep balanced.

  
“Is there an air mattress in this box?” she takes it from him, and she leads him down the hallway. Her unit is at one end, his at the other. The unit next to hers was also empty, but him next door, sharing a bedroom wall, seemed like a really, really bad idea.

  
“I’ll get a bed eventually.” He shrugs and she doesn’t believe him for a second.

  
“So I did a thing,” she says, as they stop at the door to his apartment.

  
“A thing?’ He smirks like she’s funny.

  
“I figured you still wouldn’t have any furniture, so I…” It’s easier to show him, so she opens the door to reveal a fully decorated living room and dining room.

  
“Fuck…” Scott says slowly as he drops his suitcases at the door and moves into the room. He trails his hand along the sofa before heading into the bedroom. She’d gone with a dark palette of mostly blues for the rooms because he wears a lot of blue and is a Leafs fan. Also, she assumed he spilled things a lot.

  
“There’s even towels!” he yells from the bathroom. “And they’re soft!”

  
She sits down on one of the wing back chairs and waits for him to come back, still holding onto the box. He wanders through the living room with a dazed look on his face and goes into the kitchen. She hears the several doors and drawers open and close, before he comes back into the living room and sits down on the couch across from her.

  
“This is really comfortable,” he says finally.

  
“Don’t make a big deal about it,” she warns.

  
“This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  
“You’re making a big deal about it.” She knew it was stupid idea. She should have just left him to his air mattress and disposable plates. “I mostly did it for me. Your back is going to be ruined if you keep sleeping without proper support and people expect a certain standard of living from my partner.”

  
“Ok,” he agrees but not really.

  
“Also, I used your credit card.”

  
“I was wondering why it wouldn’t work at the airport.”

  
“It’s a bit disturbing that you didn’t notices the charges before. You should really pay more attention to what’s happening with your finances.” She stands up and decides to leave before she does something stupid like suggest they have dinner together. “I’ll let you get settled.”

  
“I have a lot of unpacking to do,” he jokes and it’s unfortunate that he thinks he’s funny. “Do you want to have dinner together?”

  
“I need to get to bed early.”

  
“It’s 5:30.” The smirk is back. She fucking hates that shit eating, I know something you don’t know, smirk of his.

  
“It’s an early start tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep.” She hasn’t been to bed before ten o’clock since she was fourteen but there’s no reason he needs to know that.

 

  
“Maybe you should start going to bed later, give the rest of the world a fighting chance.”

  
She doesn’t understand the joke so she stands up and heads for the door.

  
“Anyway. See you at the rink tomorrow,” she says and closes the door before he has a chance to say anything else.

  
It’s not until she’s back at her apartment that she realizes she’s still holding the box with the fucking air mattress. There’s no way she’s going back, so she guesses it’s hers now.

 

  
  
They start slow. They have time to build their partnership, so while everyone else at Gadbois is chugging ahead at top speed, getting ready for the Grand Prix final and Worlds, they start back at the beginning. They’ve skated together before, but this time is different.

This time it counts.

  
They start with basic skating skills, then move onto matching lines. In just a few weeks, they’ve mastered basic patterns and sequences. And they’ve managed to keep things professional on the ice. Instead of making fun of each other, they’ve turned their sarcastic judgements towards the other teams. There’s plenty to comment on between the French team’s less than warm welcome and the ongoing soap opera that is Made and Zach. It takes them less than a day to perfect the art of talking to each other without moving their lips but a week and a half to learn a more complicated upright dance spin. They’re so busy concentrating on getting better, on the goal, that all the sexual tension between them dissolves. She sometimes wonders if the weekend she spent with him was enough to fuck the problem away.

  
“Tessa, is my hand good here?” He asks when they’re in the middle of working out the Golden Waltz and she just stops skating.

  
“What did you just call me?”

  
“Tessa?” he says as one does when they’re sure there’s a trick question they haven’t worked out yet.

  
“Why would you call me that?” “Because it’s your name.”

  
She just stares at him and shakes her head.

  
“Everything alright?” Patch calls from the boards.

  
“Fine!” She grabs his hand and they take a few laps of the rink in silence.

  
“You never call me Tessa. It’s weird.” She says on the third lap.

  
“Ok,” he answers slowly.

  
“No one calls me Tessa, especially not my friends.”

  
“Oh, are we friends now.”

  
“Absolutely not.” She hates it when he’s purposely obtuse.

  
“Are we going to finish watching season three of The Great British Baking Show tonight?” he asks, as he leads her to centre ice to start the waltz pattern again.

  
“I really hope James wins,” she answers before she sees what he’s doing. “Watching TV together does not make us friends. I just don’t have anyone else to hang out with.”

  
They finish the pattern before he speaks to her again.

  
“I just thought, that since we’re partners now it would be weird if I kept calling you Virtch.”

  
“Well, I didn’t ask you to change it, did I?”

  
Scott just nods and they head over to the boards to talk to Patch, who makes them run the pattern three more times before he’s satisfied with what he sees.

  
“I suppose you could call me T,” she says when they meet at the front doors at the end of the day. “But, only if you feel like you have to call me something.”

  
“I don’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” he says and holds her bag while she puts on her hat and mittens.  
“It wouldn’t make me uncomfortable.”

  
They walk in silence until they’re almost home. It’s her favourite way to walk after all the noise at the rink, she really needs time to reset.

  
“So, am I making dinner or are you?” he asks when they arrive at their building.

  
“You know perfectly well that if I’m “making” dinner, I’m going to order Thai.”

  
“Thai it is.”

  
If she orders dinner, it means that they eat at his place, so she heads to her apartment to grab a shower and change.

  
“T,” he calls after her.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Just trying it out.”

 

 

The first time anyone mentions the idea of a lift, she thinks her stomach does a complete flip before settling back in place. Her reaction comes as a complete surprise, because she’s never been anxious about a lift before, and she and Richard were know for their crazy lifts. She’s so surprised she has to take a quick bathroom break to calm her shaking hands. By the time she comes out of the bathroom, lift talk is put to the side in favour of another round of spins, and no one seems to have noticed her reaction.

  
That night, she wakes up in a cold sweat, dreaming about her fall but this time Richard is replaced with a giant kangaroo that also punches her after she falls. She can’t get back to sleep, so she wanders her apartment and watches HGTV until five am, when she can call Richard.

  
“It’s five in the morning,” he says, picking up on the second ring.

  
“I knew you’d be up.”

  
“Of course I’m up. Why are you up?”

  
“How are you feeling?” she wraps her fuzzy blanket tighter around her and tries to pretend that she’s not the most self centred person in the world by asking about him first.

  
“Recovering. I can hobble all the way to the store now, and Joseph has been so worried about me that he agreed to dye his hair back to normal.” He sighs happily and she imagines him in sitting in his kitchen with a cup of tea and she misses him so much. “But why are you really calling?”

  
“I had a nightmare about the fall.”

  
“Oh, love.” He only calls her love when he’s really feeling bad for her.

  
“I’m just having trouble with the idea of doing lifts again.” She wouldn’t tell anyone but him.

  
“Have you not tried yet?”

  
“We talked about it yesterday. I think that’s why I had the nightmare.”

  
“Understandable…”

  
They talk for the next half hour until she has to get ready to go to the rink and he’s calmed her down enough that she feels confident, if a little tired as she heads in.

  
Her confidence is shot an hour into practice when Patrice suggests they try a basic lift. Her stomach heaves again and she can’t quite find her breath. This time Scott definitely notices her panic, even if no one else does. By the time she comes back from the bathroom, he’s decided that they should try a no touch step sequence instead.

  
She stays up as late as she can, hoping she’ll fall into a deep and dreamless sleep. But still has another nightmare that night. This time Richard isn’t a kangaroo, but a group of judges, lead by the French team, rate her fall while smoking and drinking wine.

  
Richard answers the phone on the first ring.

  
“Should you maybe talk to Scott?”

  
“I’ll be fine,” she insists.

  
She’s not, of course, showing up at the rink that morning with giant bags under her eyes and slightly blurry vision. No amount of coffee is helping her headache and by her count she’s had seven hours of sleep over the last two nights.

  
Scott takes one look at her and suggests they focus on basic stroking and conditioning.

  
After another two nights of nightmares and no sleep, Patrice suggest they end early and get a jump start on the weekend, but somehow she doubts it was his idea. She and Scott walk home in silence. Well he walks and she sort of shambles like a zombie, occasionally bumping into things. He drops her off at her door without comment, even though it’s Friday and they usually watch the Great British Baking Show on Fridays.

  
It’s rounding eleven o’clock, and she’s walking laps in her kitchen for the last twenty minutes, in an effort to stay awake when he knocks on her door. He walks past her and sits on his spot on the couch without waiting for an invitation.

  
She hasn’t sat down in an hour because every time she stops moving she almost falls asleep, but decides it’s safe to sit down next to him. Her skin has been buzzing since he walked in the door and she’s wide awake now.

  
“I spoke to Richard earlier tonight…”

  
“You should know he’s one of those people who lie all the time… what are they called?” she’s been losing words since Wednesday.

  
“Pathological liars?”

“Yeah, one of those. So when he told you I was afraid to do lifts, obviously he was lying.”

  
Scott looks completely confused. It’s a standard expression on his face the last few days. “I called him to see if there was anything I could do to help with your insomnia. Are you afraid to do lifts?”

  
“I’m not afraid of anything.”

  
“Of course not,” he agrees and she feels the fatigue start to overtake her body again. “But if you were, you know, that would be completely normal. You had a really bad fall.”

  
“I just get nervous and panicky whenever it comes up, but I’m not scared.” She knows she sounds ridiculous.

  
“And you haven’t been sleeping?”

  
“I keep having these crazy nightmares. Last night I dreamt I fell and then Patch turned into a giant octopus and smashed me into the ice. And then I’m awake and I can’t get back to sleep and I don’t want to go to sleep.” She can’t stop words from coming out of her mouth or make them make sense.. “I know just have to do a lift, so I can get over it, but now I’m so tired that it would be a disaster if I even tried, so I just don’t know what to do anymore. But I’m not scared.”

  
“You need to tell me when stuff like this happens,” he says carefully and takes her hand and gives it a little reassuring squeeze. She’s at the point in sleep deprivation where her limbs aren’t fully under her control anymore, so she sees him do it more than she actually feels it.

  
“I didn’t want you to think I’m not strong.”

  
“T, you’re one of the strongest people I know. We wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for you and how strong you are.” He pulls her into a side hug and she lets her head drop onto his shoulder. He smells really good, like he just came out of the shower, and if her mind was working, she’d start something. “So, I think we need a plan. First step: You go to sleep.”

  
“But I’m just going to have another nightmare.” She can’t wake up in terror again.

  
“You might, but I’m going to stay here and when you wake up I’m going to help you get back to sleep.” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“Not like that.”

  
She giggles and keeps giggling because he’s really quite funny.

  
“Step Two: When you’re well rested, we’re going to start working on lifts.” Panic lights up her brain, she feels it welling in her stomach, in her toes. “But we’re going to go slow, and we’re going to stop anytime you’re uncomfortable. No questions asked.”

  
He pulls her up from the couch and leads her into her bedroom, finding her pjs on her bed where she left them and handing them to her. She strips down in front of him. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before. He tries to be all gentlemanly and look away but she sees him sneak a peak. As soon as she changed, he pushes her towards the bed.

  
“What if I can’t get over it?” she asks as he pulls the covers up around her.

  
“You will.”

  
“But what if I can’t?”

  
“I hear Disney on Ice is hiring. I personally think we’d make a pretty skookum Rapunzel and Flynn Rider,” he says in her and kisses her on the forehead.

  
“Eugene Fitzherbert…” she mutters, and the last thing she remembers is the sound of his laughter.  
  
She wakes up an hour and a half later, screaming at the sight of Richard’s blood. Her skate cut his his forehead when he dropped her and there’s blood all over the ice and her hands.. She can’t breathe. Cant’t think. The haze and the screaming stop as soon as he charges in from the living room and puts his arms around her. The panic gradually fades, as he whispers nonsense in her ear. Her strokes her hair until she falls asleep.  
  
Two hours later, she’s the one lying on the ice, screaming because her hamstring snapped. He comes running in from the living room in his boxers and t-shirt and looking half asleep. She claws at his shirt and gasp for air, but he just holds her tight until she drifts away again.

She manages another two hours of sleep, before she wakes with a start, terror in her lungs. Her dream is foggy and just out of reach. It takes her a minute to realize that he’s sound asleep beside her. His face unguarded but somehow worried in his sleep. She allows herself to touch the curls on his forehead for a moment before snuggling in closer to him. He reaches for her hand and holds it tight. Mumbling but never waking. It takes her longer to get back to sleep without his whispered reassurances, but she manages it almost all on her own.

The next time she wakes up, it’s to Scott gently pushing on her shoulder and the smell of pancakes.

  
“What time is it?”

  
“9:15. I didn’t want you to sleep too late because you need to get into a regular sleep schedule,” he explains and holds a cup of coffee just to of reach like a bastard. “How are you feeling?”

  
“A little foggy.”

  
“That’s to be expected.” He pulls the covers off her. She groans and tries to pull them back up but he swats at her hands. “We have big plans today.”

  
“Lifts?” She can feel the panic forming under her skin, up into her brain.

  
“Not today. You need another decent night before we can contemplate that.”

  
He keeps her busy all day. Takes her for a walk as the beginnings of spring makes its way across Montreal. A long meandering stroll through a park, full of dogs that she hadn’t found yet. He stops to pet every single one. Then to lunch a a place that serves pizza while you play board games and then for another walk, through the city, letting her stop and shop at whatever stores catch her interest. She comes home with a pair of shoes for her and a new hoodie for him. Something that doesn’t say Canada and can be worn for dressy casual events. He never once seems like he’d rather be somewhere else, never checks his phone or tries to leave. She’s never spent this much concentrated time with someone before and it should be making her crazy but for some reason doesn’t.

  
She’s exhausted by the time bedtime rolls around and half asleep by the time he tucks her into bed. He’s halfway to the living room, also looking exhausted and ready to turn in, when she stops him.

  
“You might as well sleep here,” she offers and he climbs in next to her with a smile.  
  
She wakes from nightmares twice that night, but easily slips back into sleep when she realizes he’s there.

He’s pushing her awake before the sun is even out the next morning. Her groans of protest do nothing to dissuade him of the idea that being up at five-thirty is a good idea.

  
“Come on. I booked us ice time.”

  
She manages to get dressed and out the door without too much worry, but she’s already starting to feel apprehensive by the time she turns in the direction of Gadbois.

  
“Somewhere else.” He nudges her towards his car and away from the rink that’s become like home in a few short months.

  
Somewhere else, turns out to be a run down rink a half hour drive into the suburbs. There’s no one there except the manager, who informs them they’ll have a whole hour to themselves before winking at Scott and disappearing into a nearby office.

  
“What did you tell him?”

  
He just smiles mysteriously like that’s an answer.

  
She eases herself on to the ice and lets it work it’s magic on her jangled nerves. There’s really nothing more peaceful than a fresh sheet of ice.

  
“Ok,” he says after they’ve taken a few warm up laps. “Let’s start.”

  
She feels the panic welling as he comes closer but looks into his eyes and finds a steady place to land.

  
He picks her up slowly, one arm under her legs the other supporting her back, bridal style. It’s the first lift she ever learned and it should be comfortable and easy, but her breathing goes crazy and she has to shut her eyes. He just stands there until she comes back to herself before putting her down.

  
“You ok?”

  
She nods and he picks her up three more times, exactly the same way, just holding her in one spot until the panic subsides. By the fourth time he picks her up, she doesn’t panic at all. He smiles at her like she just accomplished something extraordinary.  
“I’m going to try moving this time.”

  
The panic returns as he eases himself forward with her in his arms but is gone almost as quickly as it started.

  
“You ready to try something a little more complicated?” he asks. She isn’t sure how to answer, so she nods in agreement. “T, if you’re not ready, we can try again tomorrow.”

  
“I’m ready.”

  
He takes bother hands in his, strokes the spaces between her knuckles, and makes her look him in the eyes. “I’ll never drop you.”

  
He lifts her quickly up above his shoulders holding her with both hands. Makes sure she’s rock solid, before before taking one away. He waits for her breathing to steady, before starts to move forward. He’s incredibly strong, and steady. Holds her as if they’ve been partners all their lives. Suddenly all the panic is gone and the old, familiar feeling of flying returns. As they move around the rink, she remembers why she loves skating.

  
When he puts her down, he immediately pulls her into a hug.

  
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers.

  
“I told you I wasn’t scared,” she whispers back. The moment feels like too much for loud voices.

  
“I never doubted you for a minute.”

 

 

She sends him back to his apartment that night. Claims she’ll murder him, if she has to spend anymore time together and goes to bed alone.

  
She wakes with a start at five am, not from a nightmare but a deep and dreamless sleep. She can’t get back to sleep, not because of nerves but because she’s fully rested.

  
He answers on the first ring.

  
“Are you ok?”

  
“Just wanted to hear a familiar voice,” she admits.

  
“Do you want me to come over?” Scott’s voice is tinged with sleep but he sounds happy to be awake.

  
“Only if you want to.”

  
“It’s not like I’m doing anything important,” he says with a soft laugh. She can hear the rustle of sheets as he gets to of bed.

  
“Scott?”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Thank you.” It’s easier to say now, over the phone, when it doesn’t have to mean as much.

  
“That’s what partners are for.”

  
“Are partners also for making omelettes?” He chuckles in response as she heads to unlock her door. Maybe she should give him a key so she doesn’t even have to get up to let him in.

  
“Fire up the PVR and I’ll be right there.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

“So, Jordan said her class was in the middle of a squat when this woman let out the loudest fart she’d ever heard, which isn’t that weird, but the smell that followed was so toxic, the instructor had to find a reason to clear the room. I mean it’s funny but I also feel so bad for the woman. And that is why you never eat Mexican food before pilates,” she explains and then waits for the laugh that’s sure to follow. Instead, Scott drops another spoon and looks at her sheepishly. “Why are you so squirrelly tonight?”

They’re in her kitchen and she’s sitting on the counter watching him do the dishes. She made soup for dinner, and by made soup, she means she opened a can and stirred it while it was heating up, so it’s his job to wash up.

“Oh, I was just thinking about this weird thing that happened,” he explains and hands her a plate to dry. She refuses since she also made toast and all that effort has her exhausted.

“Tell. Tell.” His weird stories are always the best. It’s been a long and somewhat boring week of training because everyone is on tour or vacation after the Worlds and it’s only them and the juniors left at Gadbois.

“So, you know the barista at our coffee shop? The one that always works on Thursdays?”

“Male or female?” 

“Female.”

“The one with the pixie cut or the one with the nose ring?”

“I don’t know what a pixie cut is.” He does that thing boys do where he looks at her like she’s the idiot because he doesn’t know what something is, but she forgives him because he hands her a forbidden glass of wine.

“The really short hair cut.”

“Oh. No the one with the nose ring.”

“She’s cute.” And teeny tiny in a way that Tessa will never be, but sometimes wishes she was.

“She asked me out on a date,” he says quickly and downs half of his glass.

“Why is that weird?”

“No one’s ever asked me out on a date before.” He shrugs.

“How come? You’re a good looking guy?” she realizes what she said out loud and course corrects. Comments on each other’s attractiveness do not go along with this new platonic friendship thing they seem to be trying. “Or so I’ve read.”

“I was with Amy since I was nineteen. It sort of limits your dating opportunities.”

“It would.” She jumps down off the counter and he follows her into the living room. They both take their usual spots on the couch, and he starts flipping through channels, trying to find something to watch. He settles on some sports recap show, before she gives him a look, so he changes it to HGTV but flips back during the commercials.

They argue about whether they should love it or list it, Scott always wants to love it, before she realizes that she didn’t ask him a very important question.

“What did you say?”

“That it makes more sense financially to stay in the same place.”

“To the barista,” she tries to ask casually, but the words are sort of stuck in her throat.

“I told her no,” he says carefully, picking at the label of his bottled water and not looking her in the eye.

“Why?”

“I though we…” he stops short, looks up at her, before he looks away. “You said no distractions.”

“Oh.” She turns her attention back to the show, but it’s hard to focus with him sitting next to her acting like he expects her to say something important. She lasts five minutes before she snaps at him. “Do you find dating distracting?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“It doesn’t have to be.” When she really thinks about it, maybe it would be a good idea for him to date. Then he wouldn’t be in her hair so much. “It could just be about a quick fuck.”

“Jesus, T!” He’s so weirdly scandalized by her language sometimes.

“Maybe you should ask her out.”

He stares at her for a minute, before he finally says, “Maybe I will.”

They spend the rest of “Love It or List It” in silence. Of course the couple on TV loves it, because they always love it. Scott makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat that reminds her too much of things that she’d rather not remember, so she fakes a yawn and sends him home early. 

She drinks another two glasses of wine to quiet the discontent in her stomach.

 

“Did you ask her?” she asks him a few days later as they’re taking a few cool down laps around the rink.

“Ask who what?” He’s been in a great mood all practice which has made her foul mood even fouler, not that he noticed.

“The barista.”

“For coffee? I do every morning.” She can’t tell if he’s purposely obtuse or just an idiot. Either option annoys her equally.

“Out on a date.” 

“Oh.”

“I think you should,” she says with as much finality as she can muster.

“And I guess you always get what you want,” he says and skates off without so much as a backwards glance.

 

“So, there’s this contemporary dance show tomorrow at the University and I know that you hate that stuff, but I figured we could go and I’ll buy you a burger after to make up for it,” she suggests as they start the short walk back to their apartments a few days later.

“I can’t.”

“Ok, I’ll buy you beer too.”

“I already have plans.”

“Watching hockey in your underwear is not having plans.” 

He turns bright red and she’s beginning to wonder if his plans are underwear optional, when he finally spits out, “I have a date.”  
“Oh.” The barista. “Well, good for you.”

Conversation just stops and it’s beyond awkward. After a few minutes of torturous silence, she can’t take it anymore.

“Where are you going to take her?” she tries for casual and ends up sounding like a disapproving aunt.

“She has tickets to the game.” 

She wants to say: Tickets to the Canadiens? She must really want to get laid, but manages, “Those are expensive tickets. You know for a barista.”

“I guess her Uncle works for the organization, so.” He shrugs like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s saying. 

They finish the walk in silence. It’s his turn to make dinner, but now everything feels weird and uncomfortable and she’s not sure if she should follow him to his apartment or not.

“She’s not just a barista,” he says instead of asking her what she wants for dinner.

“I wasn’t questioning her choice of profession.”

“But that’s the point. It’s not her profession, she just works there part time while she goes to school.”

She can’t believe they’re standing outside of their apartment building arguing about a barista with a nose ring. But she’ll try and act like an adult and be positive about the whole thing. “It shows real dedication to work part time while you’re getting your masters.”

“Actually, she’s an undergrad,” he says and has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed. She tries very hard to make an affirmative sound of approval, but sounds like she choking on something instead. “She’s in her fourth year.”

“Yes, well. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time.” She brushes past him and rushes into her apartment. She ends up eating cold, leftover pizza for dinner, like a chump.

 

She spends the next day restless, and alone. She tries to sleep in, but wakes up early and can’t drift off again. Her pilates class is a total bust because she can’t concentrate and keeps losing her balance. It’s raining, so she can’t go to the park and none of her siblings are home to FaceTime with. She considers getting her hair cut, but realizes that given her mood, she’d probably do something drastic that she’d regret later. She ends up having a bath, and giving herself a semi disastrous pedicure, before settling in to watch the game. She is absolutely, positively not watching because she’s hoping to catch Scott and his date on TV. She just really likes hockey.

The Canadiens lose and she doesn’t see him one, although she does think she spots his stupid, fluffy hair for a minute. She hopes they had really bad seats and that’s why he was never in frame.

After the game, she settles in with a book she’s read before, she’s too distracted by images of Scott and the nose ring barista and their after game plans to focus on anything new. She’s trying to decide if she should just give up and go to sleep, the book has fallen out of her hands twice, when there’s a soft knock at the door. She opens the door to find Scott standing on the other side defiantly wearing his Maple Leafs jersey.

“You look sleepy,” he says as soon as he takes her in. “I can come by tomorrow instead.”

“I’m fine. My book was just really boring.”

They take their places on the couch before either speaks again.

“How was the game?”

“Montreal lost.” He puts his feet up on the coffee table, which she hates, but she supposes she’ll let it go tonight.

“And the date?”

“Um, fine, I guess.” Given that he headed home immediately after the game, it must have gone considerably less than fine. “We just didn’t have much in common. And she really didn’t know much about hockey. Plus she didn’t dress correctly and kept telling me she was cold. Who wears a tiny tank top to a hockey game?”

“Who indeed?” She can’t explain why this news makes her so happy, but she’s full of energy.

“Anyway, I know it’s late, but I’m wide awake. Do you want to play cards for awhile?” They’d been experimenting with different card games, since they’d decided that they spent too much time watching TV. They’d settled on Cribbage as their favourite. He was currently five games ahead of her but she’d been on a winning streak.

“It’s good that you tried dating and now you can put that behind you,” she says after the cards are dealt.

“Didn’t I tell you? I have another date next week.”

“With nose ring barista?” 

“Her name is Melody.”

“I thought you didn’t like her. Why are you going out with her again?” Her cards bend slightly, she’s holding them so tight.

“Funny story. I actually met this woman, Julie, while I was waiting in line to renew my driver’s licence on Thursday. We got to talking, and she seemed really nice, so I asked her out.”

“Amazing.” She throws down her pointless hand and tries to give him a smile. He grins back as if he isn’t the most annoying son of a bitch in the universe.

 

He goes on two dates with two different women the next week and she’s back to wanting to punch the smug look of happiness off his face. Worse, he shows up at her apartment after every date wanting to talk. She’s not sure when she became his best gal pal, but she would desperately like to give the job back to whoever had it before her.

By the weekend, he continues to be a total slut, by booking two dates on the same day. It’s a new woman every time. Apparently, he's figured out he’s attractive to the opposite sex and intends to take full advantage of the revelation. As far as she can tell, he has abysmal taste in women, because every date is a disaster and he always ends up back at her place after. She hates the dating, mostly because it means he does a lot less cooking. Unfortunately, no one makes poached eggs as well as he does.

When the next week passes without any mention of dates or women, she thinks they’ve made it through the Dating Crisis of 2015. She’s feeling great when he suggests that they go get coffee after practice and even the sour expression of nose ring barista does nothing to dampen her mood.

“So, I had a reason for the coffee,” he admits after her eats half her croissant.

“Always with the ulterior motives.” She shakes her head at him and gets a big laugh in return. “What’s up? I assume by your dour expression that you’ve called this meeting to discuss a murder.”

He doesn’t laugh this time and she’s starting to worry that something is really wrong.

“I met someone.”

“Oh?” This again? She was hoping she’d seen the last of slutty Scott.

“I met her at that sports banquet I went to last week,” he explains. They were supposed to go together, but she’d ended up with a migraine and had to stay home. “Her name is Kaitlyn. She’s a curler.”

Alarm bells start ringing in her head. “Kaitlyn Lawes? Didn’t she win gold.”

“She’s awesome.” He gets this look on his face that she does not approve of. He’s right though, because she is definitely not the type of girl that Scott has been seeing the last little while. In that, she’s age appropriate, has a job and something in common with him.

“She seems nice. We met briefly in Sochi” Which is exactly the problem, because he really does deserve a nice girl. Someone the opposite of her.

“She really is.” He’s beaming. She fucking hates it. “Anyway, she's in town training for the next month, and I was hoping to take her out on Friday. I know we’d talked about seeing a movie, so I was wondering…”

“Obviously, I don’t care.” She cuts him off while it’s still easy to form words. He looks sort of hurt by her words, which doesn’t make any sense. “We can go some other time.”

“Thanks, I’m really looking forward to it.” And unlike every other time, he actually looks like he means it.

 

She stays up past midnight on the night of the date, eventually falling asleep on the couch. Unlike every other date, he fails to show up at her door.

They don’t talk the whole weekend. On Saturday, she wanders around Montreal like a depressed ghost who lost her puppy and considers joining Tinder. On Sunday, she remembers her self respect. So what if her only real friend in Montreal doesn’t want to hang out with her. She can make her own fun. So she takes three exercise classes and goes to a bar. She drinks enough wine to forget she ever met Scott Moir but not enough to consider going home with the tall, blond stock broker, who chats her up. Instead she calls Richard, who finds drunk Tessa hysterical.

By Monday, she’s hungover and grumpy. Scott floats through practice with a permanent grin on his stupid ass-face, and doesn’t even notice that she’s hungover and grumpy. She decides that the best way to handle his complete betrayal and accompanying lack of dinner invitations, is to make new friends. Maddie looks shocked when she asks her to join her for dinner but agrees to go. Turns out she’s more fun than Tessa thought and that her relationship with Zach is as drama laden as she imagined. 

Scott’s good mood continues through the week and she doesn’t see him all weekend. She does hang out with Maddie and a few other skaters from the rink, and has a better time than she’s ever had with Scott. Well, not really, but she tries to convince herself she does.

When there’s a knock on her door, late on Sunday night, her heart fills with hope and then disappointment, when she realizes it’s probably not him. More likely her elderly neighbour, Mrs. Meyers, who likes to complain about how loud Tessa listens to her music, even when she’s not listening to any music. She’s actually shocked to find Scott on the other side of the door.

“Oh, you do still know where I live.”

“Can I come in?” He ignores her bitchy comment and for the first time she notices how sad he looks. When she opens the door all the way, he doesn’t head to the couch but straight into the kitchen. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“There’s some beer in the fridge,” which annoys her because she doesn’t even drink beer. “Or there’s a bottle of tequila in the cupboard.”

“Tequila it is.” He pours two generous shots, and then downs both of them when she refuses one.

“What happened?”

He sits down on the floor with his back to the dishwasher, so she joins him. Good thing she swept earlier in the day.

“I told Kaitlyn I couldn’t see her anymore,” he says after a long silence.

She couldn’t be more shocked if he’d told her he was really a rabbit in disguise as a human. Which Richard once told her while he was super drunk and pining for Joseph.

“I thought you really liked her.” He’d been the happiest she’d seen him in a long time, which was annoying, obviously, but she doesn’t want to see him unhappy.

“I did. I do. But she’s a long time, bring her home to meet mom kind of girl and I don’t…” she’s never seen him have so much trouble explaining something. “She needs a guy who’s all in and I’m not that guy.”

“No distractions?” Against her better judgement she picks up his hand, gives it a squeeze and doesn’t let go. 

“Something like that.” He puts his head on her shoulder and she lets him.“I think I’m going to give up on dating for awhile.”

“Probably for the best. You were getting super slutty. That kind of behaviour isn’t becoming of a lady.”

He laughs so hard that Mrs. Meyer comes by to tell her to turn down her music, but stops complaining as soon as she sees Scott. Instead, she comes in for tea because all the ladies love Scott Moir. 

Except for her. 

Obviously.


	8. Eight

They settle back into their regular routine like April was a blip on the radar, and everything is normal until they’re half way through May.

That’s when Tessa gets horny. And a horny Tessa is a grumpy Tessa. 

It’s been a really long time since she had sex, back in November with Scott, for the record. And her vibrator just isn’t doing it for her anymore.

And it doesn’t help that said last person she had sex with, spends ninety percent of their practice time with his hands all over her body, reminding her of things that she doesn’t need reminding.

Plus, it’s her birthday in a week and she always has sex on her birthday. Unfortunately, the prospects for sex are extremely limited and did she mention her vibrator just isn’t doing it for her anymore.

“Listen T., try not to take this personally, but you’ve been a heinous bitch all day.”

“I’m aware,” she spits back, but she’s not really mad at him so much as she’s angry at the entire universe.

“Should we talk about it?” he offers.

“Not here.” She definitely doesn't want to discuss her sex life within earshot of the other skaters on the ice. 

He nods and returns to the piece they’re working on. When he runs his hands up her thighs, it does nothing to improve her mood.

“Is this about it being your birthday next week?” he asks during their off ice training. They’re in the sit up portion of the day and she sincerely wants to die.

“You know it’s my birthday next week?”

“I’ve known you for ten years, of course I know when your birthday is.” He seems insulted she would suggest otherwise.

“But we hated each other for most of that.”

“And now we don’t?” He flashes her his cocky grin. Normally she hates the cocky grin, but today it’s doing things to her that she would rather not acknowledge. The situation isn’t helped by the fact that every time he does a sit up, his shirt rides up a little further.

“I wouldn’t say I’m fond of you, but I guess I don’t hate you anymore.”

“So, what you’re saying is, I’m your best friend.”

“And now I’m back to hating you.”

She swats at him and he grabs her wrist and pulls her into a hug. It should be gross because they’re both really sweaty, but instead it gets her skin buzzing and her brain remembering. It’s like she shut her sex drive down for the first five months they were training together but now that she’s turned it back on it’s needs to make up for all the time it lay dormant. So, she shoves him away and goes back to her sit ups. 

The sit ups are doing their job toning her abs and killing her libido, until Scott decides to move on to squats and she’s back to feeling like she’s going to jump out of her skin. She might kill him.

“Are you sad because you won’t get to spend it with your family?” he asks.

“No. I’ll see them the next weekend.” Victoria Day falls just after her birthday and her whole family is travelling to the cottage to spend the long weekend together. It didn’t make sense to see them before then. She’s not four, she doesn’t have to celebrate on the exact day.

“Then are you worried about getting old?” he asks after a moment’s consideration.

“I wasn’t.” Great now she’s horny and old.

“I’m not saying you’re old. I thought you might me worried about it.” He’s bright red and totally embarrassed, but he stops doing squats so she’ll take it.

“I’m not.” She does two more sit ups just to prove she isn’t old. “Although, it doesn’t make me feel great that our closest competitors are like five years younger than us.”

“Actually, I think Gabby is six years younger than you,” he points out and takes a long drink from his water bottle. It shouldn’t be sexy, but she can't stop watching him swallow. 

“I would very much like to stop having this conversation.” She’s going to either kill him or fuck him if they don’t.

“Me too.”

 

He leaves the topic alone until later that night when they’re out for a walk. It’s starting to get hot in Montreal and she likes to go out when it’s just settling into dusk and cooling down. They stroll instead of power walking. They get plenty of exercise at work.

“So, if you’re not worried about being old…” he says, when he finally stops playing with the dog that’s occupied his time for at least five minutes.

“If you call me old one more time, I will punch you in the face.”

He throws his hands up to protect his face but laughs anyway. 

“Are you worried no one…” 

“I’m horny!” she shouts at him, because he’s driving her crazy. She’s loud enough that a passing dog barks at her in response and his owner winks at her. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” Scott answers and refuses to make eye contact. She can’t blame him. She’s an embarrassing mess of a human being.

“It’s been a really long time…” she keeps talking because she’s an idiot.

“How long?” He looks at her for that question. “Never mind… I shouldn’t have…”

“Anyway, there aren’t really any possibilities available, and my vibrator isn’t doing it for me, so I’m frustrated.”

He stares at her instead of answering and gets this goofy look on his face, lost in his own thoughts until she clears her throat to get his attention.

“Sorry,” he answers and doesn’t look even remotely sorry. “That was an excellent mental picture.”

“I’m sure it was,” she swats him but doesn’t really mean it. “Anyway, it’s not like it’s something you can help me with.”

He nods, but she can tell he’s still thinking about the mental image.

 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier,” he whispers to her later that night. The hockey game hadn’t held her interest and she’d been half asleep, about to kick him out when he spoke.

“Are you still on about the vibrator?” He chuckles and his chest rumbles under her head. She’s not sure how they ended up like that, but he makes a comfy pillow.

“No, well, yes.” He winks down at her. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” she asks as she sits up and stretches out her neck.

“You said I couldn’t help you out with your problem, but maybe I can,” he says carefully, before he reaches out and rubs his thumb across her bare shoulder. She blames how sleepy she is, for how long it takes her to realize what he’s referring to. 

“Do you have a friend you want to introduce me to?” The idea horrifies her and from the way his expression changes, he feels the same way.

“You should never date any of my friends.” He shakes his head repeatedly. “Ever.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“That I could help you. Directly.” He says it all low and slow. The combination of his voice and pressure of his fingers, which have made their way to the back of her neck, are enough to make her skip a breath.

“I thought we agreed that that wouldn’t be a good idea…” she reminds him, but at the same time, she’s willing to see his point of view on the subject.

“And it’s not, but…” His fingers have found the loose hair at the back of her neck. He loops one around his hand and surprises her by giving it a good tug. “But maybe for special occasions.”

“Like someone’s birthday?” 

“Exactly. Just friends helping each other out.” He leans forward and whispers the last part in her ear.

“Hmmmm…”

“It’s really all for the best, you know, since we both find relationships distracting.”

“So, we basically have to.” He may be an idiot but he does make some really valid points. Plus his tongue is doing something to her neck that could possibly be illegal in the southern United States. “For the sake of our skating.”

“Exactly,” he agrees and leans in to kiss her.

“But,” she stops him just shy of her lips. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“Right. Three more days.” He launches himself up from the couch, looking flushed and disheveled. “I should probably head home.”

He’s at the door, before she answers, “Try not to think too much about that mental picture.”

He groans and slams the door on his way out.

 

With the promise of her birthday, things just get sluttier at the rink. 

Marie just shakes her head and occasionally makes disapproving noises.

Patch won’t make eye contact and mutters in French under his breath.

Tessa has to change the batteries in her vibrator. Twice.

 

When she wakes up on the morning of her birthday, it’s immediately clear there’s a man sitting next to her in the bed. At first she thinks it’s Scott, as eager as she is to get to helping each other out. It only takes a moment to realize that the man beside her is taller than Scott and wears the same cologne as…

“Richard!” she sits up and pulls her former partner into the tightest hug she can manage.

“Excellent. I thought you were never going to wake up. Somethings never change.” He hugs her back, gently patting her hair. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him and his solid, comforting presence in her life.

“What are you doing here?”

“Scott arranged it all. He’s in the kitchen making pancakes,” he explains as he stands up and brushes non existent fluff of his immaculately creased dress pants. Only Richard would be that well dress at 8:15am.

“He what?” The desire for the truth and the smell of pancakes pull her out of her bed.

“Organized everything. The plane tickets, reservations, and all the birthday surprises.”

She can’t quite wrap her mind around this Scott he’s describing, when hers can barely manage to organize his socks. Yet there he is, standing in her kitchen, cooking pancakes and making Joseph laugh.

Joseph grabs her as soon as she enters the kitchen, and lifts her off the ground in a hug. He’s a big bear of a man, dressed in plaid and jeans and so different than Richard it makes her laugh sometimes. He plants a sloppy kiss on the top of Tessa’s head as he deposits her in a chair.

“Happy birthday!” he booms.

“Joseph,” she can only manage his name. She’s just so happy to see both of them. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Scott insisted. Said your birthday wouldn’t be the same without us.”

“That’s what best friends are for,” he says with a wink as he puts a plate of pancakes down in front of her. They’re slathered in butter and maple syrup and she considers the idea that he might be a god.

“No matter how many times you say it, it doesn’t make it true,” she answers through a mouth full of pancakes. Both Richard and Joseph burst into laughter and then laugh even harder at Scott’s confused expression.

“Tess doesn’t believe in best friends,” Richard explains.

“We’re adults. Adults don't have best friends.” They all laugh at her. She doesn’t care. She has pancakes.“And if I were going to have a best friend it wouldn’t be one of you.”

“We all know you like me best,” Scott whispers in her ear and sends a shiver down her spine, as he exchanges her empty plate for a cup of coffee. 

“More pancakes?” she demands.

“No time,” he answers and pulls her out of her chair. “You need to get into the shower and get ready or you and Richard are going to be late for your appointment.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He pushes her towards her bedroom.

“I don’t like surprises.”

“You loved all the surprises so far,” he counters and gives her his stupid, cocky, panty melting grins.

“I guess.”

“Don’t worry, it just gets better from here.” He steps forward until he has her backed up against the wall. “And of course, I have some other obligations to fulfill later.”

“I was wondering if you’d forgotten about that.” It’s hard to make complete sentences with his lips on her neck.

“Oh, T. I haven’t thought about anything else for days.” He announces, and walks away.

 

“So…” Richard drawls later that day. She’d spent the morning getting a massage by herself, before joining him for facials and pedicures. A woman with dramatic hair do walks in to the spa and they silently judge her with their eyes. “I’m sensing a vibe between you and Scott. Anything you’d like to share with the class, Miss Virtue?”

“What you sense is your own idiocy.” She’s feeling very relaxed and is not going to let Richard ruin that.

“If you say so.” He leaves the topic alone for an entire minute of foot scrubbing heaven before he tries again. “I’m just saying, he seems very comfortable in your apartment. Especially while you’re asleep.”

“We hang out together a lot. He’s easy to spend time with.”

Richard snorts in response, “You don’t find anyone easy to spend time with.”

“Well, I don’t know anyone else here, so I don’t have much choice but to spend time with him.” The excuse sounds lame, even to her. She’s been living in Montreal for almost six months, of course she knows other people, but other people are exhausting. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“Then we won’t,” he agrees too easily and becomes very interested in the clear nail polish the technician is applying to his toes.

She’ll give him credit he leaves the topic alone until their pedicures are done and she’s at the counter trying to pay.

“It’s already been taken care of, Ms. Virtue,” the girl explains when she pulls out her credit card.

“If you could just let me know how much it cost and then I’ll pay Richard back.” She gives him a look as he arrives at the reception desk. She doesn’t like owing anyone.

“It was Mr. Moir who took care of payment. Insisted we not tell you the total,” The girl explains with an enormous grin, while Richard makes dramatic noises behind her. “You’re so lucky to have such a generous boyfriend.”

“Isn’t she just,” Richard booms and she knows she’s never going to hear the end of it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she tells both of them.

“Yes, that does seem like more of a best friend sort of thing to do,” he agrees.

“I thought you were my friend,” she pouts as they leave the salon. She’ll look up the prices later and send him an e-transfer.

“I’m starting to think I like Scott better. Joseph might actually leave me for him.” Richard hands over his phone where she finds a series of pictures of a smiling Joseph and Scott. First playing basketball, then eating lunch with beers and finally getting facials of their own. Even more annoying. She can’t actually be mad, since he did all of this for her. “Cheer up. Lunch and shopping are next on the agenda.”

 

She buys a dress so devastating sexy that Richard raises and eyebrow and shakes his head. She hasn’t gotten dressed up in a long time and she wants Scott thinking about his promise all through dinner. She half expects to find him in her apartment when she arrives home to get ready, but there’s nothing but quiet and a bouquet of peonies waiting for her.

There’s three hours of free time, in her Scott controlled birthday schedule, so she calls her mom and sister, takes a forbidden nap and then takes her time getting ready for dinner. By the time Scott knocks on her door, she knows she looks good. Possibly the best she’s ever looked in her life.

The expression on his face is worth the every ridiculous cent she paid for the dress.

“Wow,” his voice is gravelly when he finally regains the power of speech. “You look really good in that dress.”

“Thanks.” She feels herself blush, realizes that’s ridiculous and then blushes even worse.

“Like really good.” He reaches out to touch her, but thinks otherwise and sticks his hand in his pocket. “I feel like we should go now or we might never leave.”

She walks over to him and puts her body flush against him. “You sure about that decision?”

“As much as I want nothing more than to peel that dress off your body. I also love the idea of thinking about it all through dinner.” His voice is low in her ear, and his lips are close, so close but refuse to touch her.

She can only make sounds in response.

“Besides, Richard and Joseph are waiting for us at the restaurant.”

They don’t say much on the short drive to the restaurant. His hand is on her knee, playing with the hem of her dress and stroking the skin underneath. She can barely think straight, with the distraction and is surprised when they arrive at the restaurant.

“I meant to tell you earlier, but you look nice too.” 

“It’s the suit you helped me buy,” he supplies, as if she’d forget. She’s looking forward to helping him out of it again.

“New shirt though.” The deep blue makes his hazel eyes more prominent.

“Joseph helped me pick it out. The guy at the store thought he was my boyfriend.” He laughs. “I could do worse.”

“And have,” she says thinking of date number three. “The lady at the spa thought you were…never mind.”

“Stay here,” he says and starts to get out of the car.

“Why?”

“So I can open the car door for you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a nice thing to do.” He’s as close to exasperated with her as he ever gets.

“No, it’s not. It’s antiquated. I can open my own door.” And does just to prove a point.

He’s shaking his head when he joins her on the other side of the car, but doesn’t comment further, just resting his hand on her back as they walk the restaurant.

“I’m sorry,” she says when they reach the door. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“No, you’re right. It is weird. I was just trying to be nice.” He blushes.

“You don’t have to be nice. I’m a sure thing.” She waggles her eyebrows at him, but he doesn’t laugh the way she was expecting.

Richard and Joseph are waiting for them at the table and there’s another round of hugs and happy birthdays before they settle into their seats. She gets the waiter to take a picture of them before anyone has a chance to spill sauce on their shirts and posts it on Instagram with the caption “Old partners and new partners”. Her phone starts pinging with notifications almost immediately, so she turns it off.

“So, I know it’s your birthday and I don’t want to steal your thunder,” Richard says after the first drinks are served. “But Joseph and I have some news.” 

“Steal away.” She suspects she might know what he’s about to say.

“We’re engaged!” the both shout and hold out their hands to show off the matching rings they’ve been hiding under the table. Another round of squeals and hugs follows and Scott orders a bottle of champagne while she finds out the pertinent details. They’ve only been engaged for a week, Joseph asked Richard, the wedding will be in April (after the Worlds) and obviously Tessa will be Richard’s best person.

Scott slips his arm around her shoulder and she should probably tell him to move it, but she lets him leave it there. She blames her poor decision making on the champagne and the good vibes, not because it feels good and right.

“Still say there’s no vibe?” Richard whispers while Scott and Jospeh discuss the beer selections. 

“Fuck off.” seems the only appropriate answer.

The food is wonderful and the conversation flows freely. Sometimes she just sits back and watches them joke with each other, thankful that the group of people she’s let into her life also enjoy each other so much.

“How did you two meet?” Scott asks over dessert. He’s only had one glass of champagne and is hands down the only sober person at the table.

“Tessa introduced us,” Richard answers, just as Joseph is about to.

“I taught her intro to business class at U of T. When she got an A, she told me she knew the perfect man for me,” Joseph adds.

“If he’d given me a B, I wouldn’t have introduced them.” They all laugh, until she notices the surprised look on Scott’s face.

“I didn’t know you had a degree.” 

“I’m still a few credits short.” She hates leaving things unfinished, but she doesn't have time until after the Olympics.

“That must have been a lot of work.” At first she thinks he’s insulting her intelligence, and is ready for a quick come back, when she notices the admiring look on his face.

“Tess has always been a hard worker,” Richard answers.

“I know. She kicks my ass everyday at practice. I’m just trying to keep up with her most of the time.” He’s lying, of course. He’s in amazing shape, but she smiles at the compliment and gives his hand a squeeze. “I never managed to finish high school. Not smart enough, I guess.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the words burst out of her before she has time to consider them. Again she’ll blame the champagne. “You’re so smart. The way your mind works amazes me.”

“Just for skating. Not good for much else.” He knocks his head like there’s nothing in there. The other men laugh at the joke, but she sees the hurt in his eyes.

“You don’t really think that? Do you?” she asks him, while the others are distracted by the arrival of the waiter.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says with a shrug, and turns his attention to the argument over who’s picking up the cheque.

She means to talk to him about it on the way to the car, but as they stand up to leave he pulls her in tight and whispers into her ear, “Go take off your panties. Put them in my pocket when you come back.”

She almost says “yes sir” before she remembers who she is.

“I just need to visit the washroom before we go,” she explains and wonders if the heat in her body shows on her skin. No one seems the wiser as she hurries off.

All three of them are waiting for her when she returns and when Scott helps her with her jacket, she casually does as she was told. He doesn’t acknowledge her hand in his pocket, continuing his conversation without missing a beat.

Richard and Joseph follow them to the car and there’s another round of hugs and kisses, they have to leave in the morning. She can only hope that they don’t notice her inability to think straight as Scotts hand curls around her waist.

He gives her the filthiest look she’s ever seen, as they pull out of the parking lot and she knows she’s in for the best ride home of her life.

He doesn’t say a word to her, just tightly grips the steering wheel until they reach their first red light. As soon as the car is fully stopped, he eases up her dress, pulls her thighs apart and starts to work her. His fingers are hard and insistent on her clit, just the way she likes them, until the light changes and he stops. She tries to adjust her skirt, but he stops her hands. She’s not sure where this bossy Scott came from but it’s making her wetter than anything has before.

His car is low to the ground and if it weren’t for the tinted windows anyone could see the way her skirt is rucked up around her thighs, just barely covering her pussy. Even knowing the privacy the windows afford, she’s nervous, constantly checking to see if anyone has noticed. By the third light she can no longer think. Her mother could pull up in the car next to her and she wouldn’t care. All she can think about is his talented fingers and how badly she wants him to finish what he started.

Seconds after he’s parked the car in the lot under their building, she’s straddling him. Grinding against him, desperate to cum. He bites her bottom lip as he finally kisses her.

“Tess,” he gasps into her mouth. “As much as I want to continue this. I can do so much better with more space.”

She just nods in response. They practically tumble out of the car and take the world’s longest elevator ride. By unspoken agreement they stand on opposite side of the elevator. If they start touching there’s no way they’re leaving with their clothes on.

A soon as the door opens he pulls her into the hall way and smack into Mrs. Meyer.

“Oh, don’t you two look pretty,” she coos at Scott. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Tessa’s birthday,” he says as he tucks Tessa into his side, and strokes the underside of her breast where Mrs. Meyer can’t see. She feels like she’s going to pass out or murder her neighbour if she doesn’t get inside.

“Happy birthday, dear. Would you like to come in for tea and celebrate?”

She makes a noise in her throat that must be some primeval throw back to getting cockblocked.

“Oh, we’d love to, but I’ve already kept T up way past her bedtime, so we’re going to call it a night.” 

“Straight to bed,” she agrees and Scott pinches her. But she can feel his rumbling laugh under her hand, which has found its way to fondle his ass under his jacket.

“That’s very responsible of you. Just remember not to play the music too loud.”

“It won’t be the music that’s too loud,” she whispers and he pinches her again, which is not the deterrent he thinks it is.

“Pardon?”

“We’ll try and keep it down,” he answers and pushes her into her apartment before she can get them into any more trouble.

“You think you’re so fucking cute,” he growls at her as turns her around and unzips her dress. Excellent, they’re not wasting any time.

“I am fucking cute.” She returns the favour by unbuttoning his shirt after she deposits his jacket on the floor. God, his chest is a work of art.

“Are you ever.” He kisses her hard, as he removes her dress, before his perfect fingers find her nipples.

She pushes him towards the bedroom as they kiss, removing articles of clothing along the way. He kisses his way down her body when they reach the bed, before dropping to his knees.

“I don’t need that. I just want you.”

She takes a moment to drink in the smile on his face. Then pushes him to sit on the bed, grabs the condom she left beside the bed and swiftly puts it on him, before she straddles his lap. His cock is hard against her, so very close to where she wants it.

“How many of them did you sleep with?” she asks as she rocks against him. The bliss that falls across his face makes her gush. She hates how much she likes pleasing him.

“What?” he growls back. His hands find her hair and pull.

“The women you dated. How many did you sleep with?”

“None of them.” He looks mildly offended despite his arousal. 

She sinks down on him in one swift movement and he looks nothing but pleased as they groan together. There’s nothing quite as arousing as the sound of his satisfied groan and she clenches in response.

“Why?” she asks as she rocks a little.

He looks her fully in the eye, and strokes her hair before he answers. “I wanted to be with you. I could only think about being with you.” 

“Bold of you to assume it would ever happen again,” she teases.

“Says the women my cock is currently buried in.” He pushed his hips up into her and smiles. He hits exactly the right spot and she groans. “You make the best noises.”

“Want to hear more of them?” She rotates her hips in response and the loveliest shade of pink dusts his cheeks.

“Hard and fast?” he asks as he flips her onto her back.

“You know me well.”

“Some day you’re going to let me take my time…” he manages to stutter out as he starts to thrust into her and she can’t think anymore.

It’s better than she remembered. Now he knows her sounds and how to shift inside her. The exact moment that he should twist her nipple and when to find her clit. She’s so keyed up from the drive over, from the promise of the day, the week, the last six months that she comes hard and fast. His name falls from her lips as she does. The universe reduced to him and only him.

He gives her a second to recover, before he’s pounding into her again. Relentless, until she comes again. Her legs shaking so hard she can barely move them. This time he lets her recover for longer, holding her tight and stroking the side of her face until she stops shaking and her breathing starts to settle. When he moves this time, he’s like a man possessed.

 

“Scott…”

“One more time.”

“I can’t.” she breaths back, but she can already feel herself rising.

“You can do it, baby.”

“Baby?” she hopes she sounds annoyed.

“You fucking love it,” he growls back and fuck if she doesn’t.

She can only feel after that. Hold on, score his back with his nails and feel.

“Now, baby,” he calls and fucking smiles at her as with one final thrust they come together.

It takes her a long while to come back to herself. When she finally does she curls in close to him and lets him play with her hair and nuzzle at her neck. He’s like an affectionate kitten after sex.

“Happy birthday,” he says as she feels her eyes starting to droop.

“Best fucking birthday present ever.”

“There was definitely fucking involved.”

She hits him, but she laughs.

“Go to sleep,” she answers and uses his chest as a pillow. She should get up, take off her make up and brush her teeth, but she’s not convinced her legs work anymore. If she gets a bladder infection, she’s blaming him.

“I get to stay?” he asks but he’s already settling into sleep.

“This time.”

She’s almost asleep when she remembers, “Thank you.”

She means for everything. For Richard and Joseph, for the spa day and the flowers. For the dinner and the orgasms. For the way that no one has ever gone out of their way for her the way he has. But she’s ok if he thinks she just means thank you for the sex. She’s not sure if she’s ready for him to know the rest.

 

She wakes up the next morning before him and shoves him into consciousness. She’s notoriously not a morning person, but she does have some of her best ideas at the crack of dawn.

“You’re surprisingly strong for such a small person,” he grumbles and rubs his shoulder.

“I just realized something.”

“Unless your realization is about a sudden need for us to evacuate the building, I think it could have waited until I woke up.” She likes this grumpy morning Scott who smiles through his insults.

“Make me coffee and I’ll explain it to you.”

“And I have to make coffee too? You’re the worst date, ever.” He's already climbing out of bed and searching for his underwear, so he can’t be that annoyed. She takes the time to appreciate his ass, before finding her own clothes and following him into the kitchen. He already has the coffee brewing when she arrives. She sits in his lap instead of in the chair across from him, and he looks so delighted that it takes her breath away.

“So what's this very important realization that couldn’t wait until the sun was all the way up.”

“The sun is all the way up.”

“I’m trying to make a point.”

 

“Then you should be factually correct.”

He kisses her to shut her up. It works.

“The point or no coffee,” he says when he’s done.

“I was thinking about how since we’re friends now…”

“Best friends?”

“Don’t push your luck, and business partners. It only makes sense for us to continue this arrangement.” She waits for him to acknowledge her brilliance.

“Our helping each other out arrangement.”

“Exactly. I don’t think we need to make it a special occasion sort of thing.”

He doesn’t immediately agree and she’s starting to wonder if she made a mistake and she doesn’t have the best ideas first thing in the morning, He has this odd expression on his face, like he’s trying to make an important decision, when suddenly he breaks out into a grin.

“That sounds like an excellent way to conduct business.”

“I thought so.” 

They shake on it, like the sensible business people they are.

“How shall we celebrate our business deal?” he asks as he palms her ass.

“I can think of a few ways,” she answers and drops to her knees in front of him.


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, people kept asking for a chapter from Scott's point of view and I was like you all are crazy, I'm not writing something from Scott's point of view, and then this happened.
> 
> Also, I have a twitter. Come by and say hi. @Rookandpawn1

Tessa’s out of sorts at practice, so Scott does a mental checklist of all the things that make her act weird.

1\. Horiness  
2\. Nightmares  
3\. Lack of coffee  
4\. Regret?

He know’s it’s definitely not 1-3 because they conducted a business meeting twice last night, and then he slept over when she didn't send him home. While she can only be described as a restless sleeper, at one point he woke up to her elbow firmly planted in his neck, which was the impetus for round two, she definitely didn't have any nightmares. He also made her coffee this morning, which he suspects, is why she let him stay the night. 

So, it must be reason number four. Maybe she’s rethinking their whole business arrangement. 

Except she seemed vocally pretty happy about it at three am.

He’s about to flat out ask her when he notices her relentlessly picking at a thread on her warm up jacket and he realizes what’s really going on.

He’s seen her like this before countless competitions. She’s nervous.

But the real question is why?

A thousand scenarios run through his head and none of them are good. 

She wants to end their partnership because Richard has miraculously recovered and she’s afraid to tell him. Honestly, he’d be heart broken, because skating with her is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Everything with her is the best thing that ever happened. But he’d also be thrilled for Richard, because he knows how devastated he’d be if skating was taken away from him.

She wants to start dating other guys. An idea so catastrophic it’s like a punch in the gut.

She’s injured. He checks to see if she’s favouring her right leg, but she’s fine today.

She’s pregnant. They’ve been exceedingly careful on that front and he knows her period isn’t due for another two weeks.

She’s realized he’s a shmuck and can do so much better both skating wise and in bed. This seems the most likely. He’s actually surprised she hasn’t figured it out before now.

He's so wound up, convinced she’s about to deliver terrible news, that by the time that they sit down to lunch he’s a bumbling nervous wreck. He’s not the only one, if the way she keeps picking up the sandwich he made her, not eating it and putting it back down, is any indication.

“Ok, tell me what’s going on before you mangle that sandwich any further.” He hopes he sounds breezy and casual, not desperate and pathetic.

She flashes him a smile. Her smiles are the second best part of his day, topped only by her incredibly rare full bodied laugh. He’s getting better at drawing the smiles out of her, rewarded with at least one or two a day, but they still take his breath away. Unfortunately, this particular smile does nothing to ease his anxiety, since it doesn't reach her eyes.

“You seem nervous.” Might as well jump in and find out rather than continue to torture himself.

“Oh…I guess I am.” She checks the room to make sure that no one is watching before she takes his hand. She’s shaking a little. The shaking combined with her non-sarcastic, not at all defensive response have him terrified.

“Just tell me,” he says and reconsiders. “No wait. Is it bad?”

“Why would it be bad?” She gives him a look like she thinks he’s the biggest idiot in the world. It shouldn't be sexy, but it is. 

“Honestly, Moir.”

“Ok, tell me.”

“Well, there’s actual two things. One is work related and the other is business stuff.” She waggles her eye brows at him. It’s adorable.

“Ok, work first.” Always work first, no matter how distracting she is. He knows he comes off as an easy going guy and sometimes that means the people don’t understand how hard he works, how badly he wants Olympic gold. There’s nothing he wants more.

“I have an idea for our long program, but I’m a little nervous that you might nor be on board and I definitely don’t think Marie will be,” she says all in one breath.

“Why don’t you start with me and then I’ll use my considerable charm to convince Marie.”

“What you think is charm, most people just find annoying, FYI.” She says it, but she doesn’t mean it. When she doesn’t immediately continue, he nudges her with his knee. “I want us to do Carmen for our free.”

Carmen. Of all the things he was expecting, a war horse that’s been done to death wasn’t it. But he trusts her, so he assumes there must be more to her idea.

Of course, she miss reads his expression and is already explaining before he has a chance to say anything, “But it would be different. This time Carmen would be the seductress who kills Don Juan at the end.”

She falls silent as he considers the idea, tugging at the thread on her jacket like her life depends on it. He can see the program in his mind. Just the way she describes it. Tess as the seductress, him helpless in her grasp, if that isn’t art imitating life he doesn't know what is. They can push the boundaries a little, hell they can push them a lot. He’s tired of lovey dovey, look how pretty they are on ice, bullshit. He wants something raw and in your face, he just didn’t know it until she said it out loud.

“Dark costumes?” he says holding her hand tight, trying to convey his excitement in a touch.

“Exactly,” she breaths 

“And some crazy lifts.” He can picture them in his head. There’s so much he can do with her that he couldn’t with Amy, especially when it comes to lifts. Tess is much taller but she’s twice as strong. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t like it,” she says and her cheeks pink. He’s not used to this shy, unsure version of her, but he likes it as much as he likes every other version.

“Even if I had, we would have talked through it. We’re a team.”

“Right,” she agrees, but he thinks she doesn’t really believe it. She always seems to think she has to go it alone. “We should talk to Marie about it this afternoon. We need to get to work.”

“Sounds good.” 

He’s happy to see her take a giant bite out of her mangled sandwich and moan in appreciation. He loves the way she relishes food, giving the same appreciation to a ham and cheese sandwich as she does a hundred dollar steak dinner.

“What about the business stuff?” he asks to distract himself from the little sounds of she’s making. Sounds that remind him of things he shouldn’t be thinking about at the rink.

“Don’t say it all low and sexy like that. It’s supposed to be a code.” She drops her voice to match his and he can see her point. 

“Ok.” He sits up as straight as he can and puts on his most professional voice. “Please proceed with your business proposal, Miss Virtue.”

She laughs so hard she almost drops her sandwich. She might be the only person who finds him genuinely funny, which is the most surprising part of their partnership.

“I was just wondering… never mind, it’s stupid.” All her good humour is gone as she shakes her head.

“Come on, T. It can’t be that bad.”

It takes her a long time to make the decision to tell him, every emotion lighting across her beautiful face as she decides what to do. She sighs before she speaks, “I know you’re probably going to visit your family or something, but I was wondering if you wanted to come to my family cabin for the long weekend.”

The invitation floors him. He doesn’t know how to respond for a minute and Tess, being Tess, takes it the wrong way.

“Forget it, I shouldn’t have asked…” she starts to stand up and he pulls him back down.

“I’d love to come.” She gives him one of her rare enormous smiles, which he has to crush two seconds later. “But I did tell my family I’d come home for the weekend.”

He hasn’t seen them since he moved to Montreal and even though he calls and Skypes as often as possible, he misses them like crazy. 

“It was a stupid idea. Obviously, you’d already have plans.” She’s up and halfway down the hallway before she finishes talking. 

He has to clean up all the lunch stuff she left behind, so she’s already on the ice before he can catch up to her.

“What if…” he has to grab her hand to get her to stop and listen to him once he’s on the ice. Inaccessible Tessa has already over taken her features and he honestly wished it didn’t turn him on quite as much as it does. “What if we went to your cottage for the first two days of the weekend and then you can home with me for the last two days.”

Her mouth falls open in response. It’s hard to leave her speechless, so he bookmarks this moment to analyze later.

“I mean you’ve never really met my family and they are going to be a pretty big part of your life for the foreseeable future,” he takes a deep breath because she’s still just staring at him. “It would be nice if you got to know them.”

“You’d… like that?”

“Of course.” He’s so confused by her confident one minute and completely unsure the next, but he’ll spend as long as he can trying to figure her out.

“They don’t think of me as that Tessa Virtue bitch?”

“I never called you a bitch, well maybe that one time you put itching powder in my dance belt…” he longs to scratch his balls with the memory.

“I probably deserved it that time.” The smile is back.

“Probably?” He was uncomfortable for weeks.

“It was the fastest I’ve ever seen you skate. It was like your feet were on fire.” She’s full on laughing now and he’d join in if it hadn’t happened to him.

“It wasn’t my feet that were on fire,” he arches an eyebrow at her and she laughs even harder. “Anyway. My family has no idea what a cold, mischievous heart you have hiding under all those innocent freckles. They think you’re adorable.”

“They’d be right.”

“So, do you want to come?”

“Sure, I mean it’s probably the best thing for our partnership,” she says with a shrug. And although he’s happy she agreed to come, he deflates a little. Just once he’d like her to admit that she wants to spend time with him, actually likes him, instead of having to excuse it with partnership. But he’ll take what he can get.

For now.

Practise starts up again in earnest. As predicted, Marie-France is horrified by the idea of another Carmen free dance, but is starting to be won over by their vision by the time they call it a day.

“Sometimes I miss it,” Tessa says carefully on their walk home.

“Miss what?” She legitimately pulls topics out of thin air sometimes.

“The jokes and pranks. They were fun.” 

“They were.” He actually looked forward to the way they tortured each other. Anticipated it much the same way he anticipates getting her naked.

“Anyway, we’re much too mature for that kind of stuff now,” she answers.

“Right.” He heads to his apartment with an idea brewing. But first he’d better get snack before dinner. It’s her turn to cook, so he’d better load up if he doesn’t want to go to bed hungry. 

 

The next morning he watches as she carefully puts two generous spoonfuls of sugar into the coffee he has waiting for her. She blissfully raises the cup to her lips and then spews the contents across the table.

“You put salt in the sugar container!”

“Me?” he feigns innocence. “Why would I do such a thing.”

“Oh, it’s on, Moir.” The dangerous look in her eyes makes him anticipate more than just her revenge.

 

It’s a long drive to Tess’ cottage and even though they’ve agreed to split the driving, he knows he’ll end up doing the whole thing because she’ll be zonked out within an hour. He puts on a peppy playlist and waits only until they’re on the highway before he asks her the question that’s been on his mind since the night before.

“So, this business partners arrangement we have going?” she perks up immediately as she always seems to at the possibility of sex. “Does it cover going as each other’s dates to weddings?”

Her silence is about what he expected.

“Try and look more horrified by the idea. I dare you.”

She exaggerates her expression to a comical amount. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea…”

He cuts her off before she can launch into her list of reasons, the top of which is likely, it will give people the wrong idea. And by people he suspects she means him.

“It’s Amy’s wedding.”

“Oh, in that case. I’m all in.” She gives him a truly evil grin and he can see the wheels turning in her mind. He’s so glad she’s on his side now.

They sit in silence for a little while. Just as he starts to think there will be no further discussion, she speaks.

“I’m not trying to get out of going, because honestly I live for that kind of shit, but are you sure you want to go?” She looks at him with soft eyes, and he has to turn away. Kind Tessa is the one that’s eventually going to break him.

“Should I not?” As soon as he opened the invitation, he knew he was going, hadn’t even considered an alternative.

“I mean, she probably just invited you so you’d send a gift.” Her disapproval of all things Amy flits across her face.

“I guess I feel like I need the closure.”

“Do you…do you still have feelings for her?” There’s something he doesn't understand in her voice. He just wants to ask her sometimes, to clarify what’s happening between them. Has never bought this whole business partners idea, but he knows that if he tries to he’ll scare her off. 

“No.” It’s taken him awhile to realize, but it was over between him and Amy a long time before it actually ended. “But I still have things I want to say.”

“And you’re going to say them at her wedding?” 

“Probably not. But it’s nice to have the option. I don’t know how to explain it, but if I watch Amy marry our coach, it will be the last thought I ever waste on her.”

She just nods for a solid minute, and then she gives him a glorious smile.

“So we’ll watch her get married to the cryptic keeper, critique her fashion choices, and then we’ll end the night with a business merger?” 

“Sounds like a plan,” he agrees and grabs her hand and gives it a kiss. When he starts to let go, she doesn’t let him.

 

Tessa’s full of energy when they arrive at the cabin, having slept three quarters of the way there. Her sister, Jordan comes flying out of the house as soon as they pull into the driveway, takes one look at them and says.

“You two are fucking,”

“Jesus, Jord,” Tessa shakes her head and hugs her sister, while Scott just stands there. She’s been very clear with him that no one was allowed to know about their arrangement, especially family. “He doesn’t even know you. Don’t scare him off in the first thirty seconds.”

There’s a fondness in her voice that he’s never heard before, even when she’s speaking to Richard.

“But it’s true.” Jordan answers with a shrug that’s so similar to the one Tess always gives him that it throws him a little off balance.

“Don’t even bother to deny it. Being able to tell when people are sleeping together is like her superpower,” Tessa explains and gives him a little shove towards the cottage.

“I would have preferred invisibility,” Jordan answers and takes one of the three bags that Tessa brought with her. He suspects that one of them is entirely filled with books. “So speaking of people having sex, I put Scott-o in a separate bedroom. Should I be rethinking that decision?”

“Is mom still coming?”

“Yup.”

“Then he’s sleeping in the guest room.”

“Mom still thinks Tess is a virgin,” Jordan explains and swings open the door to the cottage.

Cottage is definitely not the word to describe the elegantly decorated, well appointed house he steps into. Summer residence would best fit the bill, since it’s nicer than anywhere he’s ever lived.

“Wow,” he manages.

“I told you you didn't need the air mattress.” 

“Wait, did you say your mom thinks T’s a virgin.” He was momentarily stunned by the opulence of his surroundings, but now he’s fully back in the conversation.

“Try and say it like you don’t think I’m the world’s biggest slut, Moir!” she yells at him and disappears down the hall and into a nearby room.

“She thinks anyone who isn’t married is a virgin,” Jordan explains. She goes to the fridge, pulls out a beer and tosses it to him across the room.

“Except Jordan, who she knows for a fact is not a virgin because she walked in on her and her boyfriend two years ago,” Tessa explains as she comes back into the kitchen and catches the beer Jordan throws at her.

“The boyfriend is long gone, but the memory lives on.” The two sisters flop on to the couch, and take a long drink in unison. “Always lock the door, Scott Moir, always lock the door.”

“Solid advice.” He salutes them with his beer.

“You can bunk in the room next to mine,” Tess tells him.

“All the better to sneak in,” Jordan adds.

They both waggle their eyebrows at him.

“I can see the family resemblance.”

“Everyone says we look a like,” Tessa replies, but he meant personality wise. 

“Only I’m better looking,” Jordan says before he has a chance to say anything. “And a superior ice dancer.

“Natch,” Tessa replies. 

He shakes his head and leaves to find his bedroom. Tess follows him and leads him in the direction of the correct room. She flops down on the bed in a position that leads his mind into territory it definitely shouldn’t. 

“Sorry, Jordan and are a lot to take.”

“I think you guys are great.” He lays down next to her and nuzzles into her neck. She makes a mewling noise that goes straight to his groin.

“Are you two getting naked in there?” Jordan yells from the living room.

“It’s going to be a really long weekend,” he groans, and he reluctantly rolls off the bed.

“We’ll figure something out,” she answers all deep and throaty, and sucks on her finger. He leaves the room so he doesn’t embarrass himself. Her laughter follows him down the hall. Jordan is in the kitchen preparing what looks like food.

“There’s a Virtue sister who can cook?”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m going to grill some hot dogs.”

“I can cook.” Tessa tries to look offended but doesn't put any real effort into it.

“Heating up a can of soup is not cooking.”

“But more effort than she’s ever gone to in the past,” Jordan says, as she steps out onto the back deck of the cottage. They follow her and for a moment he's so taken with the breathtaking view that he loses track of the conversation.

“It’s amazing here,” Tessa whispers to him, as she stands as close to him as she can without actually touching him.

“Thanks for inviting me.” The way the sun catches her face makes her look even more ethereal than normal.

“So, what’s the deal with you two anyway?” Jordan asks and he finally looks away from Tessa. “Should I be expecting a wedding invitation soon?”

“No!” Tessa practically screams and jumps away from him. “It’s just a friends with benefits deal.”

“Best friends?” he jokes back, but can admit to himself that her reaction hurts a little.

“Still a hard no.” 

He fakes a laugh and finds a lounge chair to sit in.

“When does everyone else get here?” she asks cutting of Jordan’s next question.

“Mom should be here tonight. The boys won’t arrive until tomorrow. And then the fun really begins,” Jordan says and winks at him.

 

Kate Virtue is looking at him like she knows every filthy thing he’s ever done to her daughter and will find a way to make him pay for it. It’s the most intimidated he’s been in his entire life and he’s faced Russian judges with a grudge.

“So, you’re Scott.” The smile she gives him does not reach her eyes. Jordan’s giggle does not help matters. “Tess, has told me a lot about you.”

“I’m sorry?” he tries.

Tessa groans from where she’s flopped down on the couch. Only minutes before, she’d had her head in her lap and was attempting to work her hand up his shorts without Jordan noticing. Luckily, he’d gotten up to use the bathroom, and her mother hadn’t caught them in a compromising position.

“We like Scott now,” Tess explains.

“Some of us more than others,” Jordan adds. 

Kate gives him the once over and then hands him her bag.

“You’ll be sleeping in the guest bedroom down the hall from my daughter,” she suggests.

“Mom!” Tessa shrieks and sounds like a horrified teenager. “The bed in that room is meant for a child. He wouldn’t fit in it.”

“I see.” She gives him another once over and again clearly finds him lacking. If she really does believe that Tessa is a virgin, she looks likes she's pretty sure that Scott is there to make sure she doesn’t leave one. “You can take my bag to my room.”

“Up the stairs at the end of the hall,” Jordan whispers as he walks past. Kate has already joined Tessa on the couch and they’re having a very intense whisper argument. “Don’t worry. She’s all bark and no bite.”

“What happened to the guy she found you with?” Jordan’s face grows pale and for the first time her jovial well being disappears.

“All I’m saying is don’t get caught.”

 

Under Kate’s watchful eye, and Jordan’s laughter, Scott goes to bed very much alone. It was a long drive to the cabin, and a tense evening with Kate, so he’s pretty exhausted by the time he hits the bed. But the sound of the Virtue women laughing in the living room keeps him awake. Kate drifts away first, leaving the sisters behind whispering and giggling. It’s a side of Tessa he’s never experienced before and it makes him inexplicably happy. Every time she shares another part of herself, he feels like she’s given him a gift.

Eventually, silence falls over the house and he can finally relax enough to fall asleep. He’s just drifting off, when she slips into his bed and cuddles him from behind. 

“T…” images of Kate bursting into the room war with the feeling of her barely clothed body pressing up against his back.

“I couldn’t sleep with out you,” she breathes into his ear and runs her hand down his chest. “Don’t get cocky about it.”

“You like me cocky.” It comes out more seductive than he means it to but her sharp intake of breath suggests she’s not offended. “What about your mom?” 

“She sleeps like the dead.”

“Not that reassuring,” he complains, but it’s not like he’s going to make her leave and they both know it.

“We don’t have to do anything.” Her argument would be more convincing if she wasn’t already palming his dick.

“So we’ll just what? Cuddle?”

They both laugh at the idea, then shush each other and both laugh again.

“Can I be the little spoon now?” she asks, but when he flips onto his other side she stays where she is, their noses almost touching. He reaches out an strokes her hair and her eyes flutter shut. He’s surprised when she doesn’t immediately start something. They’ve laid in bed talking after sex, but never before. 

“Are you glad you came?” she whispers and finally rollin over to become the little spoon and snuggling into him.

“I am. Your sister is a hoot.”

“A lot of people think she’s too much, but they just don’t get her.” He can hear the smile in her voice and is rewarded by her wiggling her ass against him.

“Your mom is scary as fuck though.”

She barks out a laugh and both of them freeze as they wait to see if anyone heard them.

“She’s protective…”

“I got that vibe.” 

“I moved away when I was fourteen and I think she feels guilty that she wasn’t there during my wild years.”

“Tell me many stories of wild T. Slowly and with a lot of details.” He doesn’t remember stories about wild Tessa, but he spent a lot of his teen years trying to pretend she didn't exist.

“I did immediately get the belly ring. But I didn't really have time to be wild.”

“Maybe you could make something up later.” He gives her ear a little nip. She shivers in response and pushes her ass into him hard. They’re both quiet for a moment and he contemplates whether he should take things further. He’s enjoying their chat, but she’s so damn tempting.

“She’s a little weird around men ever since dad left, “ she says, her voice small and sad. She doesn’t talk about her dad much. He knows her parents were together until just recently, that her dad was the one who left and is already with someone new and that he and Tess aren’t on speaking terms.

“I’m sorry.” he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk anymore.” This time when she shoves her hips back into him, he know she means it.

 

He wakes up in a panic because Tessa is still in his bed, sunlight is streaming in through the window, and he can hear of the other Virtue women in the kitchen. He’s barely had time to put all of this together when there’s a knock on the door.

“Scott,” Kate calls and rattles the handle. Two things occur to him at once. He is buck naked and despite Jordan’s advice, he did not, in fact, lock the door.

“I’ll be right out,” he yells back and scrambles to find his boxers, a sheet anything that he can cover himself with.

“Do you know where Tessa is?” it’s not that her voice sounds suspicious so much as if she might murder him.

“Um…” he looks at the naked woman on his bed, who refuses to wake up no matter how many times he pushes her. “Maybe she went for a run.”

“Do you mind if I come in?” The door handle is already turning as she asks the question. He has just enough time to pull up his boxers and shove Tessa off the bed and onto the floor, out of view of the door, before Kate pokes her head inside.

“What’s up?” He tries to act casual as Kate’s sharp eyes scan the room.

“Are you ready for breakfast?” She asks through a tight smile.

“Be right out.” 

Her eyes scan the room one more time before she leaves. He immediately leaps up and locks the door behind her.

“Moir!” Tessa growls. “Why the fuck am I naked and on the ground?”

 

Luckily, Tessa’s brothers and wives arrive shortly after and they use the commotion to sneak back her back into her room and then out of the house, where she pretends she just returned from a run. Jordan just laughs at them, while Kate stares daggers at him.

He’s dreading the rest of the day, but then Tessa’s brother’s Kevin and Casey, sweep him down to the lake and it turns out they’re the most fun. They paddle board and swim. They eat and drink and joke around. Eventually Tessa shows up in a white bathing suit that makes his heart stop and Kate hover nearby with a cover up. She taunts him by asking him help her put on her sun screen. Luckily, one of the wives distracts Kate long enough for him to thoroughly enjoy his work.

They manage to sneak away by themselves after lunch and even though Jordan gives them a knowing look when they return, they actually spent their time relaxing in the sun and talking with minimal groping.

When the sun goes down, Casey builds a bon fire and everyone eats so much they can barely move. They tell embarrassing stories from everyone’s childhood and Kate gets misty about how much she wants grandchildren. Jordan takes her wine away. Tessa uses the distraction to cuddle up to him and he figures that her mother is drunk enough that he can safely put his arm around her.

Kate is the first one to head to bed and the others trickle in one by one after her. Tessa is deep in conversation with Kevin and his wife when he takes a quick bathroom break, so he’s surprised to find her alone when he returns.

He hands her the sweatshirt he found in her room and she looks shocked.

“You seemed cold,” he explains as he sits down next to her.

“Why are you so nice to me?” she asks.

“Because I like you.” He feels like the answer should be obvious, but some how it’s not.

“Nobody likes me.” 

“That’s not true,” and it breaks his heart that she would even think so. “I’ve seen your followers on the internet. They love you.”

“I’d say it was fifty-fifty those who like me versus those who hate me and everything I do.” She tries to smile but her eyes or sad, so he pulls her closer. “Doesn’t matter. Those people don’t really know me.”

“Well, I know you and I really like you.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m letting you sleep with me.”

“T…”

She cuts him off, “Doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

“I just don’t understand why you think you deserve so little.” It’s the most real he’s ever been with her and he’s terrified it will make her run away, but he can’t watch her sad like this and not say anything.

“I think I deserve an Olympic gold medal.” Predictably she pulls away from him.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve everything else.” He tries to take her hand but she refuses it.

“I’m really tired. I’m just going to head to bed.”

She’s gone, back in the cottage before he can stop her. He considers following her, making her talk to him, but instead he watches the fire until it burns out and then goes to bed alone. She doesn’t come to visit him that night.

 

He’s the first one awake the next morning, even though he didn’t sleep much. Turns out that no one in the Virtue clan is an early riser. He’s started pancakes and bacon by the time a bleary eyed and slightly hung over Kate joins him in the kitchen. He hands her a cup of coffee and for the first time she doesn't look at him like she wants him dead.

“Where’s Tessa?” she demands when the coffee kicks in.

“Asleep in her room, I assume.” He gives her his best smile and she almost smiles back.

“Scott,” the gentleness in her voice surprises him. “Just please don’t hurt her. I don’t think she could take it.”

“I don’t have any plans to.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” She gives his hand a pat. “You’re good for her.”

He doesn’t have a chance to answer, because it seems like the entire house wakes up at once and the kitchen fills with hungry people. Tessa still hasn’t woken up by the time everyone sits down to eat and he’s torn between going to wake her up and letting her sleep. He’s not sure how things stand between them and he’s not anxious to find out.

All his dithering comes to an end when Kate says, “Scott, why don’t you rouse Tess.”

When he doesn’t answer his knock, he lets himself in her room. She’s sound asleep, her bed it’s usual state of disarray. He’s about to shake her awake when he notices she’s wearing one of his shirts instead of her usual pjs. His fondness for her doubles.

“Hey,” he gives he shoulder a soft shake and her eyes blink open. “It’s time for breakfast.”

“Pancakes?”

“You know it.” He sits up and he notices the dark circles under her eyes, a match for the one’s under his. “That shirt looks familiar.”

“I may have borrowed it.”

“Am I ever getting it back?” he teases because he already knows the answer.

“I’m not making any promises.” He’s about to stand up when she throws her arms around him and pulls him into a hug. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Can we talk about it?” he asks carefully. 

“Not yet, but soon.”

“Ok, soon.” He's going to hold her to her promise, but he’s also willing to give her the space she needs.

“Ok.” She lets him go and runs into the kitchen chanting pancakes. Jordan joins in immediately and he can’t help but laugh.

 

They’re on the road by noon after tearful goodbyes and a promise to come back for the Canada Day long weekend. The drive to his parent’s house is only a couple hours and she sings the whole way. She’s a legitimately terrible singer but he joins in anyway. They’re both laughing and in fantastic moods by the time they arrive. 

The house is packed with his entire immediate family and half his cousins. There’s hugs all around for him and Tessa. Although she looks overwhelmed, she also looks happy as his mom leads her into the kitchen and forces a plate of food into her hand.

“Scotty,” his mom says before he can sit down at the table. “Why don’t you put Tessa’s bags in the guest room.”

“Scotty?” Tessa’s face is awash with delight.

“You are not allowed to call me that.”

He can hear both of them laughing as he leaves the room.

When he gets back downstairs, he finds her sitting in his childhood kitchen between his mother and his father, holding one of his newest nephews while chatting with his cousin. She’s grinning and when she turns and makes eye contact him her smile only grows bigger. She looks so perfectly a part of everything in his life that matters.

In that minute he knows one thing for certain. He is absolutely, totally and completely in love with Tessa Virtue.

Now he just has to find a way to get her on the same page.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my new friend/sister from another mister Walkinrobe. It's been such a pleasure getting to know such a special person. If you haven't read her stuff, run don't walk to do so.
> 
> The VM fandom maybe a crazy place, but the people who write and read fanfiction in are some of the nicest, most supportive people I've ever known. Thanks for making me feel welcome and for all your amazing and thoughtful comments.
> 
> I'm rookandpawn1 on twitter if you want to come by and say hi or ask any questions

“You know you have to breath if we’re actually going to skate,” Scott whispers to her and when she doesn’t immediately let go of the breath she’s been holding he reaches out and pinches her.

“That hurt.”

“Sure, but at least you’re breathing now.”

“I’m really nervous,” she admits.

“I noticed.”

She doesn’t understand how he can be so calm when the next two and a half minutes will decide the future of their skating careers. If their short program at the Autumn Classic doesn’t go well they can pretty much kiss their future goodbye. Ok, maybe she’s exaggerating, but not by much.

“Come here.” Scott shakes his head at her.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to give you a hug.” He tries to pull her into him but she dodges him.

“Why?”

“Because you’re about to unravel your costume from the way your tugging on that lose string and you need to calm down before we get on the ice.”

He has a point. Their warm up wasn’t a complete disaster, but also wasn’t a shining example of their abilities either. Her fault because Scott’s had laser focus ever since they walked into the arena. She lets him pull her into the hug on the second try.

“Just breathe, T.” He pulls her close so that his cheek is resting against her and won’t let her leave when she tries to pull away after a few seconds. Eventually, she gives into the hug and lets their breathing sync and her heart settle into it’s normal rhythm. He pulls away and smiles at her, taking both her hands in his. And damned if she doesn't feel calm and focused.

“We’re going to go out there and kill it. But remember we’re doing this for us and no one else.”

“Well, maybe the judges a little bit.”

“Maybe a little.”

“I got your back,” she says and means it. She’s got his back in everything.

“I got your back,” he echoes and leads her to the ice.

 

Their ravensburger waltz goes off without a hitch and the Skate Canada people are practically salivating over them afterwards. After a quick debrief with Marie and Patch, they make nice with the other skaters for a few minutes, but get out of the arena as fast as they can. Choosing to stay in a bubble built for two and ignore any outside distractions. They don’t even stop to acknowledge their families, almost all of whom have come for the competition. They’ll have time for them tomorrow when the competition is over. 

Even though they’re staying in different hotel rooms, Scott hasn’t been in his much except to get various items out of his luggage. So naturally, they head to her room and immediately collapse on the bed.

Between her period and travel and prep for the competition, they haven’t had sex in five days, which is the longest they’ve gone since they started their business arrangement. But despite how much she really wants him, she’s far to exhausted to take advantage of the situation.

“Hey,” he says and haphazardly strokes her arm. “I’m exhausted. I think I’m getting old.” 

“You are old.”

“Thanks,” he boops her nose.

“Older than me, anyway.” She gives him a smile so he knows she’s kidding even though he generally just knows now a days. “I’m already sore. Tomorrow is going to hurt.”

He nods in agreement and groans as he turns to face her. “We did good today.” 

“We did. We’re going to kill it this season.” She’s never felt this confident going into a season before, even the one season where they were beating Scott and Amy at every competition. But she just knows she and Scott are unstoppable. Even if they don’t win worlds this year she knows it will be because of how new they are, not because of anything they do as a team.

“I’m glad we’re partners,” he says and this thing crosses his face. It’s an expression she’s seeing a lot lately, and it terrifies and she hates to admit, excites her. “I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t knocked on my door, but I don’t think it would be somewhere good.”

“As much as I want to take credit for everything, I’m sure you would have landed on your feet.” She wants to run away from the softness in his voice and in his eyes. Wants to make a joke or same something mean, but lately she’s been making herself stay and it hasn’t been terrible.

“But not like this,” he insists.

“No, not like this.”

They’re silent for a bit and both of them are starting to drift off when a text from her phone jolts her awake. She groans in real pain, not sore muscle pain, as she rolls over to get it. Her legs have been bitches all week.

“Your legs bothering you?” he asks without opening his eyes.

“No. I’m fine,” she snaps back. She thought he was asleep or she wouldn’t have made any noise.

“Why won’t you tell me when you’re injured?”

She’s about to deny everything. Tell him he’s an idiot. But the way he asks her, quietly, with his eyes closed and his hand around hers, makes her think that maybe it’s ok to share.

“I don’t know if you remember, but Richard wasn’t my first partner.”

His face quirks in surprise. He opens his eyes just a little. “Really?”

“I skated with Tyler Murphy before that.” Ty had been her partner from the time she was seven and they’d looked like they had a real future together right from the beginning.

“Oh, right,” he nods as recognition floods his features, but he doesn’t push, just waits for her to continue the story.

“When I was fourteen my legs started to hurt and at first we thought it might be a stress fracture. But it just got worse and worse.” She hates thinking about the pain. Can feel it chasing up her legs and into her brain. How it would consume her to the point she couldn’t think about anything else. He grips her hand a little tighter.

“What was it?” he whispers.

“Compartment syndrome. It’s an overuse injury.” She takes a deep breath to steady herself before she continues. “I had to have surgery and when I came out of the hospital my partnership with Ty was over.”

“He did not.” Scott’s eyes pop open, as his voice drips with disgust.

“In fact he did not, because he sent his mom over to tell me.” She can’t help but laugh at the memory, which was horrifying at the time. Ty’s mom trying to sound sympathetic and like her son wasn’t the world’s biggest douche bag, while she kept looking at Tess like she was contagious. She’d been devastated at the time and had fallen into a pretty bad depression, sure her career was over, when Richard had contacted her.

“I had to have surgery again two years later, when Richard was my partner. I was terrified that he was going to dump me too, but he stuck by me.” He’d been a rock star during her recovery, from the hospital right through physical therapy appointments.

Scott pulls her into a silent hug, one reminiscent of the calming one from earlier in the day. She hadn’t realized she was on the verge of tears until she settles her breathing.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” 

She just shrugs in response because what are you supposed to say? I’m sorry it happened to me too.

“So your legs hurt when we train too much?”

“I have to learn to manage it better.”

“You mean we have to learn how to manage it better. That’s what partners do.” It’s the only time her ever shows any kind of frustration with her, when she refuses to treat him like a full partner.

“I was just worried…” she doesn’t want to finish. It sounds so stupid when she says it out loud. He’s never given her a reason to doubt him, to doubt their partnership.

“That I was going to leave you if you were hurt?” She hates how offended he looks. “You’re the only partner I want and if you’re out, I’m out.”

It takes everything in her to say, “Ok.”

“So we’ll figure out the training part when we get home.”

“Sounds good,” she says through a yawn.

“And from now on you’ll tell me when you’re hurting?”

“Ok.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They both yawn and laugh.

“What ever happened to Ty?”

“He had a couple partners that didn’t work out. Never competed at the senior level. The asshole tried to convince me to take him back after Richard and I won worlds.”

“Dickhead.” His hand goes to her hair and he plays with it absentmindedly.

“Carmen tomorrow,” she says with a raised eyebrow. She can’t wait to debut their free dance. It might be the most daring thing she’s ever done and she’s anxious and excited to see the public’s reaction.

“I can’t wait to see your dress.” He’d asked not to see her free dance dress until right before they go on the ice, because she’s learned his sappy like that.

“I can’t wait for you to see me in it.” And just like that, no matter how tired she is she wants him again. Judging by the expression on his face, he’s feeling the same.

“Come here,” he tugs her over to him, his voice gravelly in her ear. His lips are on hers before she has a chance to respond. Nipping and biting as he goes. God, that man can kiss.

They’re panting by the time he pulls away. She whines her disappointment at him  
.  
“We probably shouldn’t,” he answers but does not remove the hands planted on her ass.

“Not a great idea right before competition,” she agrees. They need every ounce of energy they can muster.

“I miss you. Five days is an inhumane about of time for me not to be touching you.”

“You’ve done plenty of touching.” Their practices have been even sluttier than normal. 

“Not the same thing,” he sings into her ear.

“We have to wait until tomorrow.” She hates being the adult. His fingers are magic and she misses him as much as he misses her.

“Right after the free dance,” he says with a sigh and roles away from her so they’re no longer touching.

“Well, first the press stuff, because we’re going to win, then celebratory dinner with our parents…”

“Because we’re going to win,” he interrupts and she rewards him with a smile and a fist bump.

“And then the sex.”

He laughs so hard. 

“Did you just call it the sex. God, I…,” he stops himself and coughs. “You’re so funny sometimes.”

“I try,” she answers but is still trying to figure out what he was going to say.

“We should get some sleep. Do you want me to leave?” He’s already standing by the time he asks the question. She’s not sure how or why the mood changed so suddenly.

“Only if you want to.” They haven’t slept apart in weeks, not since the night they had the fight at her family cottage. When they’d arrived at his parent’s place, his mom had put her stuff in the guest room but after watching her and Scott together for a couple hours, Alma had quietly moved them in together. There didn’t seem to be much point in sleeping apart once they’d returned to Montreal.

“I don’t want to,” he admits after a moment’s hesitation.

She doesn’t understand his mood, but she figures levity is the only way to deal with it. “Then let’s get ready for bed. We have some important skating to do tomorrow.”

Later, after they’ve showered (separately for everyone’s safety), brushed their teeth and changed into sleeping attire, they settle into her bed together. When he wraps his arms around her and buries his nose in her neck, all feels right with the world.

 

When she walks out of the dressing room the next night, Scott is waiting for her. He slowly takes in her free dance dress, looking her over from top to bottom and then back up again. He lingers on the deep V in the front and sucks in a deep breath when he turns around to reveal the equally deep V in the back. 

“You like?” 

“It’s good. It’s really good.” He licks his lips and she knows that Carmen is going to be extra special tonight.

She hadn’t considered, when picking the deep V, how much he take advantage of it’s location. His hands wander into dangerous territory several times during the warm up and he keeps his hand firmly planted on her lower back when they leave the ice.

They’re skating last, where she prefers, because it’s nice to give her legs a rest and then she doesn’t have to wait to see how they did. When the competitors before them take the ice he pulls her into the same hug as the one from the night before. Even though she’s not as nervous, she’s just as thankful. When they finally take the ice, she’s in full vixen mode.

They start strong, both of them fully in character. The audience gasps, when they perfectly execute the lift where she backflips onto his shoulders and ends up with his face between her legs. The lift is supposed to mimic oral sex and everyone knows it but she will never admit it when asked.

The second half of the program is a little sloppy but where it needs to be at this point in the year. They win easily, and by the look on both the judges and her competitors faces, she knows they’re going to be right in the running for everything that comes next.

They’re separated almost immediately after the marks. Him pulled away by his family and her by Jordan.

“What did you think?” she asks as she pulls out of Jordan’s enthusiastic hug.

“Well, Mom definitely doesn't think you’re a virgin anymore.”

“Jord…”

“She had to take a bathroom break to recover. I don’t know if she’ll be able to look you in the eye when she comes back.” Her sister is enjoying herself too much, but that’s basically Jordan in a nutshell.

“People are listening.” She tries to rein her in. Jordan just charges ahead, possibly getting louder.

“Seriously, that was hot. Is that what it’s like when you’re together? Oh, hey mom.”

Kate gives her a tight hug, but does indeed refuse to make eye contact when she pulls away. “That was lovely, dear.”

“Lovely is one word for it,” Jordan snorts.

Scott and approximately twenty-three Moirs arrive and interrupt any further discussion. After a round of introductions, they all agree to have dinner together.

He manages to pull her away from the crowd on the way to the dressing room.

“Why is your mom looking at me like she wants to kill me?”

 

Amy’s wedding is the following weekend, at a cute little winery because Amy has never had an original thought in her life. They decide to share a room because the rooms at the winery are hellishly expensive and the whole point, as far as Tessa is concerned, is to make Amy as jealous as possible.

With that in mind, she has taken him for a haircut, he was starting to look a little shaggy, and she has picked out all of Scott’s outfits for the weekend and ensured that they co-ordinate, while not matching hers. She even packed some new lingerie because they might as well have some fun while they’re there.

“Why do I have to dress up for the drive there?” He asks as they’re about to leave and she hands him his clothes for the day.

“First of all jeans that actually fit and a button down shirt are not dressing up, we’ve had this conversation.” He just rolls his eyes at her and starts striping off the tattered Canada shirt and sweatpants he’s wearing. “And second, everyone is going to be watching you from the second you enter the room.”

“You really think so?”

“As the scorned ex. Definitely.” He looks doubtful but continues changing his clothes, even going so far as to put on a little show. She’d like to take advantage but they have a schedule to keep. “It’s our job to make everyone realize that Amy made a terrible decision.”

“But I’m glad she made the decision,” he pulls her close and even though it makes her uncomfortable when he says stuff like that, she slips her hands into his half buttoned shirt.

“I know, but we want her to fully understand that. It’s what she deserves.”

“Are you going to wear that?” He leers at her, removes her hands and continues dressing but not before he gives her ass a quick squeeze.

“You approve?” The black crop top and matching tight skirt show off her abs.

“Let’s just say, I’m really glad you’re on my side now.” He kisses her and they end up leaving late afterall.

When they arrive at the hotel half of the wedding guests are in the lobby and every one of them tries to discretely stare at them as they make their way across the lobby. Scott waves to the people he knows, while she tries to look disinterested and sexy. She keeps her sunglasses on to help with both. He finally runs out of people to greet and they head to the check in, where she drapes herself across him and giggles periodically. When Amy appears in the lobby, Scott palms her ass and pretends he doesn't see her.

Occasionally, she realizes how petty she’s being and then she remembers what Amy did to him, and she doesn’t feel petty enough.

There room isn’t as nice as the price she paid for it but there’s a bed and a view of the winery so it has all they need. Scott immediately flops onto the bed and pats the spot beside him. She ignores him and goes to hang up their clothes. 

“You were right,” he says and stretches out onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. 

“I’m always right,” Fuck, he looks sexy, but she has things to do. “But what specifically am I right about this time?”

“The clothes.”

“You should listen to me all the time.”

“That’s going too far.” He shakes his head and makes a face. “It was nice to see everyone. I kind of cut ties with all of them when Amy and I broke up.”

“So she got the friends and the furniture in the break up?” She calls from the bathroom, where she’s organizing their toiletries. 

“But I got you, so I think we know who really won.”

“You’re so sappy.” She shakes her head at him as she comes back into the room. 

“Come lay down.” He looks sleepy and sexy. “We deserve a nap.”

“My hair will get messy,” she complains but is already half way to the bed. “Is this a pants optional nap?”

“All our activities should be pants optional,” he explains as he starts to remove his jeans.

“I think Marie and Patch might frown on that.” She pulls off her skirt and tosses it onto a nearby chair before she gets into bed with him. They’re just going to have a nap, no matter what his wandering hands might think.

“What’s the schedule for tonight?” he’s yawning as he big spoons her.

“There’s a rehearsal dinner, but we are not surprisingly, not on the invite list.” There's an schedule of events attached to the welcome basket in their room. The fact that the rehearsal dinner is for family and wedding party only, has been underlined twice. She suspects specifically on their schedule alone.

“Some of the guys were talking about meeting up at a pub while that’s happening.”

“You should go.” His hand makes it’s way under her top and nestles in between her boobs. He’s taken to sleeping that way and she finds it strangely soothing.

“You’ll come too?”

“Do you want me to?” She’d had visions of spending the night in reading.

“I always want you there.” She feels herself stiffen at his confession. He’s been making a lot of grand pronouncements lately and she’s not sure how to take them. 

“Scott…”

“Plus, it might be suspicious if you aren’t,” he cuts her off with a laugh.

“True.”

“Go to sleep, T. You’re thinking to hard,” he whispers and she decides to take his advice.

 

“Are you almost ready?” The normally unflappable Scott Moir sounds a little panicked. “The wedding starts in five minutes.”  
“Who the fuck has a wedding at eleven o’clock in the morning, anyway?”

They’d ended up staying out way to late the night before, hanging out with Scott’s friends. Because they were tipsy and horny they forgot to set their alarm. Because they’re idiots they didn’t wake up until an hour before the wedding. She’s never gotten ready faster in her life, a lot of pressure when it’s key that she look amazing.

“You look beautiful,” Scott whistles when she emerges from the bathroom. “Although, I’ll admit I was expecting something sluttier.”

“I’m saving that look for the reception.”

She checks him over as they hustle toward the elevator. Of course, he looks perfect and was ready in a mere fifteen minutes.

“You have a different outfit for the reception?”

“We both have different outfits for the reception. The invitation said black tie optional for the reception.”

“What was the dress code for the wedding?” he asks with surprising interest.

“Boho, east coast chic.”

“What does that mean?”

“That Amy’s an idiot,” she whispers as they arrive with one minute to spare. Of course, because the wedding is about to start, everyone turns to look at them as they burst through the doors. They continue to stare at them as they take their seats at the back of the hall.

“Yo, Scotty!” Amy’s eighteen year old brother, Brandon, yells from the front. 

Luckily, they’re saved from any further embarrassment by the arrival of the groom, who takes his place at the front.

“Fuck he’s old,” she whispers.

“He’s not that old,” he answers but she can tell he loves it.

“I’m surprised he made it there without assistance. Is that his best man or his nurse?”

He’s trying to hold in his laughter when the doors swing open and Amy appears at the back of the church. She’ll give the girl credit, she’s an absolutely stunning bride. Her hair, make up and dress are absolute perfection. She slides her eyes to the left to see how he’s doing, ready with a joke if he needs it. But to her surprise, he's not even looking at Amy, but at her.

“She looks beautiful.”

“Sure,” he agrees, but he’s still looking at her.

The ceremony is blissfully short. She hates weddings and especially hates ones that last for hours. Amy and her new husband float out of the church followed by all their well wishers, until she and Scott are the only two people left in the venue.

“The reception isn’t for eight hours,” he says. He seems fine. Quiet but fine. Since he generally allows all his emotions to bubble to the surface she has to believe that he really isn’t as upset as she expected him to be.

“That’s just poor planning in my opinion.” All wedding receptions should take place immediately after the ceremony. No one can convince her otherwise.

“What should we do to pass the time?” his tone is playful and with Scott that could mean anything from go-cart racing to an hour long, leg shaking sex session. And frequently one followed by another.

“There’s a pool.” She has a new bikini he hasn’t seen yet.

“You’ll get your hair all messed up.” He grins back at her.

“That’s ok. I was already planning some other activities that would mess up my hair.” She grabs his hand and leads him out of the venue. He’s not the only one with two part plans.

 

Amy is clearly trying to send a message with both their table placement and table mates. They’re as far away from the head table as possible, without being out of the room, sandwiched in between the two kids tables. Their table mates consist of three elderly ladies all of whom are hard of hearing, who she assumes are friends of the groom, a Japanese couple who don’t speak English, but smile a lot, and Amy’s creepy uncle.

“Scott, man, Amy must really hate you,” Brandon says, fist pumps Scott and walks away.

“What’s he talking about?” Scott asks, because of course he’s thrilled by where they’re sitting. He’s surrounded by children and old ladies who find him charming. Even creepy uncle seems slightly less creepy when he’s talking to Scott.

“Did I tell you you look smoking hot in that dress?” he whispers to her at dinner after the boring speeches finally end. Inexplicably he has a baby in his lap. She has no idea where the baby came from or who it belongs to, but she is highly entertained by the faces he’s making at the baby.

“Did I tell you I’m not wearing anything under it?” She’d been saving the simple cut, floor length orange dress for a special occasion and Amy’s wedding turned to to be the perfect one. The dress is completely wedding appropriate, but manages to show off her body to an extreme degree. She’s been the recipient of several lecherous stares and a dirty look from Amy’s bridal party.

“Not in front of the baby,” he chastises and covers the baby’s ears. Then he waggles his eyebrows. A little girl brings him a picture she drew for him and he completely loses interest in her.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was the guest of honour from the way everyone keeps coming over to talk to him. Everyone is so happy to see him. She feels bad that he had to give up a group of people who used to be such an important part of his life, and is determined to make sure she creates the same group for in his new life.

 

He’s deep in conversation with Amy’s mom, who’s hugged him at least three times, so she doesn’t bother to let him know that she’s headed to the bathroom. She meets Amy coming out of the bathroom as she’s about to go in. She assumes that they’re just going to ignore each other but instead the blonde looks her over from head to toe and smirks.

Oh, game on, bitch.

Tessa just stares at her.

“So, what are you two sleeping together?” Amy asks. She’s a little drunk and a lot messy and Tessa really should ignore her, but she’s here to be petty.

“You don’t get to ask that question.”

“I can’t believe he brought you to my wedding.” she teeters on her heels a little before righting herself. “Everyone is paying attention to you two. You could have had some class and stayed home.”

“I don’t think the cheater gets to have any comments on class.” She’s livid. It takes all of her self control not to punch her.  
“It was over. We both knew it.”

“I’m pretty sure one of you didn’t know.” When she thinks back to that night in Sochi, how devastated and alone he was, she just gets angrier.

“I wasn’t happy,” Amy pouts like a petulant child, who’s parents are giving her what she wants. “I shouldn’t have to stay with him, just because everyone likes him.”

“You’re right, you have to stay with someone if you’re not happy,” Amy brightens, thinking Tessa is on her side. She’s an idiot. “But you fucking tell them. You act like a grown up and you fucking tell them. You don’t go and cheat on the best guy in the world and treat him like shit. You don’t do that. Because he really is the best guy, the best partner and quite frankly the best lover. And if you couldn’t see that, I feel sorry for you.”

“Whatever, enjoy my sloppy seconds.” Amy turns bright red and flounces away.

“And you don’t get to take the furniture,” she belatedly yells after her, turning to find Scott and not Amy standing there. “How much of that did you hear?’

“Some.” He’s positively beaming at her. She suspects he heard more than some. He grabs her and pulls her into a long hug. “Thank you.”

“I know this must have been hard for you, and I’m so proud of how well you’ve handled all of it.” She says while they’re still hugging. She has a hard time saying stuff like that directly, can’t handle the look on his face when she does.

“Couldn’t have done it with out you, Virtch.” She can hear him holding back tears, and that alone sends her half way there too.

“So, let’s go get drunk, dance our faces off and then go have sex so loud that the bride has to come and tell us to keep it down.”

“That might be the best plan you’ve had yet,” he agrees and pulls her towards the dance floor.

 

Scott is drunk. The drunkest she’s ever seen him and she’s once saw him have a conversation with a bronze moose while drunk. He’s so drunk that the Japanese couple seem very concerned about her ability to get him to his room. A legitimate concern since he only has sporadic control over the direction his legs go in.

She’d been half way to drunk herself when she realized how hard he was going and decided stop drinking. Thank goodness she did, because she can’t even begin to imagine the shitshow that would have ensued if she hadn’t.

“Have I told you how pretty you look, tonight? Cause you look really pretty” He tells her as she tries to lead him in the direction of their room. He keeps trying to go back to the dancing, even though he was the last person standing. He’s a madman on the dance floor, having danced at least twice with every guest at the party after she was too exhausted and had to sit down. “Not as pretty as Tessa, but pretty.”

That’s the latest development in his drunken progression, he periodically doesn’t seem to know who she is.

“I am Tessa.”

“Are you?” He blinks at her. “That makes sense. Cause you are very pretty and so is she.”

“I think it’s time for you to go to sleep.”

“I can’t go to sleep. We have to have sex so loud that people come and tell us to be quiet,” he explains, very seriously.

“Babe,” she just laughs at him. “I really don’t think that’s going to happen for you tonight.”

He stops and takes her hands, “I don’t want to let her down.” 

“You could never let her down.” And as she says it, she knows it in her heart.

He seems to like this idea, finally walking in a straight line and directly to their room without further comment. As soon as he’s in the room he immediately collapses onto the bed.

“Do you remember how to take clothes off? I don’t want to ruin my suit. T would be mad.”

“I’ll help you.” She runs her fingers through his sweaty hair before helping him with his shoes.

“You’re the best.” 

He’s quiet but complacent as she helps him undress. She assumes he’ll pass out while she hangs up his suit and gets ready for bed, but as soon as she puts the trash can on his side of the bed, he starts speaking.

“I have a secret to tell her, but I don’t think she’s ready to hear it yet.”

It would be easy to get him to tell her the secret, but it feels like such as fundament betrayal of the trust they’ve built that she knows she can’t.

“You probably shouldn't tell me, if it’s a secret.”

“You’re very smart.” His voice is thick with sleep. “I should tell her first anyway.”

And with that, he passes out.

It takes her a long time to fall asleep afterwards.


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the time between updates. Real life and other projects got in the way.
> 
> Thanks to The Old Ladies Club for their encouragement and support.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going out?” Scott asks lazily, when she comes out of her bedroom to find him lounging on her couch. He’s shirtless and wearing only his work out shorts and she’s pretty sure he wasn’t there when she went into her room. While she enjoys the view, she's annoyed by the question.

“Why would I tell you when I’m going out?”

“Because I thought we were hanging out tonight.”

“Why would you think that?” Honestly, the ideas he gets sometimes.

“Because we hang out every night,” he shoots back and sounds a little annoyed, which is ridiculous because if anyone should be annoyed in this scenario, it’s her.

“No we don’t.”

“We don’t?” he counters with a raised eyebrow. 

When she thinks back on it, maybe they do spend most nights together, and she can’t remember the last time he stayed at his own place, but still, he shouldn’t assume.

“Well, I’m going out. There, I told you. Are you happy?”

He smiles an indulgent smile at her, “See how easy that was.”

She lets him pull her down on to the couch and into a cuddle, mainly because they haven’t had sex in twenty-four hours and probably won’t for that long again.

“Who are you going out with? Maddi?” He nuzzles into her neck and she wonders if she has enough time for a distraction or if that will make her late for dinner. 

“No, Mel and PJ.” She doesn’t have many friends in Montreal and even fewer non-skating friends, so she was surprised when she developed an easy friendship with the two women who knew nothing about skating. She met PJ when she interviewed Tessa for her morning radio show and they quickly realized they shared a similar sense of humour, and a love of shopping and perky butts. PJ introduced her to her best friend Mel and the three have been inseparable ever since. Lately, their friendship mostly takes place over text, because Mel and Tessa travel so much and PJ goes to bed at seven thirty most nights so she can be at work for her shift that starts at three thirty in the morning. She’s been looking forward to this evening together for weeks.

“It’s already 6:30, doesn't PJ have to go to bed in an hour,” Scott asks as he starts working the buttons on her blouse.

“How do you know that?” She slaps his hand away and jumps up. As much she’d like to indulge, if it really is 6:30, she's already running late.

“You told me.” He seems to accept being shot down and stretches out further on her couch.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he shakes his head at her and smiles. “Last week you were wandering around all sad because you couldn’t group text and you said that PJ goes to bed at 7:30 and Mel was travelling to Australia.” “Why do you remember things like that?” Why does he care? 

“Because I’m interested in the things you’re interested in.”

“Maybe I should go,” she doesn’t like how angry she sounds and she really doesn’t like where the conversation is heading. To avoid all that she needs to leave.

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” he sounds just as angry.

“I’m late,” she says and just stands there. Is she supposed to kiss him before she leaves. Is that something they do now? The whole idea just makes her uncomfortable so she leaves without saying anything else.

 

PJ is already there when she arrives, because she's always at least ten minutes early for everything, while Tessa and Mel always arrive fifteen minutes late. The waiting never seems to bother the red head, who sits happily reading a book while sipping on a Coke.

“Hey!” she calls and waves to Tessa from across the restaurant. Everything PJ does is loud, and Tess loves her for it. “Why are we angry?”

“I’m fine,” she says, as she sits down. She’d really like a glass of wine but they’re a week away from Skate Canada and a restaurant meal is already an indulgence.

“You look angry. Is it the valet? He looked like he had attitude. I’ll fight him if you want.”

“It’s not the valet, but I’ll keep the offer on the table in case I need it later,” she says and PJ honks out a laugh in response. Several people turn to look. “Where’s Mel?”

“She texted to say she’s going to be late. It was heavily implied that she was busy getting loved up by Justin.”

Mel started dating Justin three months ago and they are definitely in the honeymoon phase, a phase she feels the need to share all the details of. Not that she and PJ are complaining.

She’s about to make a snarky comment, when the lady in question comes tearing into the restaurant and plunks herself down at the table.

“Sorry, I’m late.” Mel definitely looks like someone who’s recently been fucked and like she’s not even a little sorry about it.

“Please do not describe in detail why you are late,” PJ says just as Mel is opening her mouth to do just that. “As the only member of this group without a boyfriend and no hope of one on the horizon, I don’t think I could take the inevitable jealousy.”

“Don’t be so down on yourself. Maybe you should ask Nick to set you up with someone?” Mel suggests, but Tessa suspects that the reason that PJ can’t find a boyfriend is because she has so much chemistry with her co-host, Nick, and no one wants to get in the way. She’s about to say so, when a realization hits her.

“I don’t have a boyfriend?” she blurts out, interrupting the other two women’s discussion of Nick’s soon to be ex-wife.

Both of them just stare at her, confused. Of course, the waiter arrives at that very moment and all of them reel off their orders as quickly as possible, Mel ordering a bottle of wine, even though she’s the only one drinking. When the waiter leaves, the women continue to stare at her, until finally Mel breaks the silence.

“Did you and Scott break up?”

“No.”

“Oh, thank God,” PJ mumbles. “I’d have lost all faith in love. Wait is he your fiancé now?”

“That’s why he’s not your boyfriend?” Mel asks.

“No!” Tessa doesn’t understand where this conversation went wrong. “We’re just friends.”

“Say what now?” Mel asks expressing both women’s obvious confusion. 

“Last time we were together you told us a very entertaining story about giving him a blow job. You ain’t just friends if you’ve had his dick in your mouth.” PJ says too loudly and the next table over all turn to look.

“Yes, we’re having sex, but he's not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, honey,” PJ whispers this time. “Do you really think that?”

“You can have sex with someone without them being your boyfriend.” She can’t believe they aren’t on the same page as her.

“Oh, absolutely,” Mel agrees, a sneaky smile on her face. “But that’s not what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She helps herself to Mel’s wine. Screw training, her friends have betrayed her on a fundamental level.

“Ok, let’s break this down,” PJ says. “Do you spend time with him when you’re not having sex?”

“Yes, but he’s my partner, so I have to spend time with him. It would be like if you started having sex with Nick, you have to spend time with him because of work.”

PJ blanches, and Tessa decides to leave that reaction alone for another day.

“But, do you spend time with him when you’re not at work?” Mel takes over what feels like a cross examination.

“A little bit.” She doesn’t spend that much time with Scott does she?

“Does he sleepover?”

“Occasionally, but it’s just practical.” She can’t actually remember the last time he slept anywhere but her bed, but she’s not going to tell them that.

“Have you met each other’s families?”

“Yes, but that’s part of the job.” She doesn’t mention that his mom calls her once a week, just to check in, and it’s one of her favourite things.

“Does he cook for you?”

“Yes, but…” 

“Add his laundry to yours…” Mel is relentless. She should have been a lawyer or a cop.

“Sometimes, but…” 

“Does he give you presents.”

“No,” she almost screams, happy to have a negative answer.

“Oh, then he is definitely your boyfriend.” PJ says and pours Tessa a glass of wine.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she pouts in return and drains the glass. Good thing PJ can always be counted on to be the DD, because she definitely isn’t going home sober.

 

When she gets home she trips over Scott’s shoes in her entryway, and then stumbles to her room, where she finds him sound asleep. He absolutely should not be in her bed, and she doesn't understand why he is, but she’s too tipsy and too tired to contemplate the problem. So, she throws off her clothes and finds the nearest t-shirt, one of his she thinks, before climbing into bed.

He mumbles something in his sleep before rolling over and wrapping his arms around her.

 

They’re prepared, but on edge as they arrive at Skate Canada. It’s the first real test of their new partnership. While the buzz around them is generally good, the French are still, inexplicably in Tessa’s opinion, out in front of them. They need to make a big impression at this competition, come out first by a long shot, if they have any hope for a medal at worlds.

The short program comes off easily, and they beat the Shibutanis by a decent margin, if not as much of a margin as she would like. But she’s nervous heading into the long. Carmen has proven to be a divisive program, with the fans firmly in the yes camp, and the judges firmly in the no to I’m not sure camp. They have to skate it completely clean in order to get the marks they need. Something they haven’t been doing lately.

Her legs have been aching on and off, and Scott’s neck is bothering him. But the real problem is, her head hasn’t been in the game since that night out with Mel and PJ. The more she looks at her behaviour, the more it really does look like Scott is her boyfriend, which is not the impression she wants anyone to get, especially Scott himself.

“You alright?” he asks the evening before the free dance as he watches her wander restlessly around her hotel room. He has his own room, but hasn’t been there except to get things out of his suitcase. She’s torn between telling him to go back to his room and demanding he stay. The indecision is only adding to her restless anxiety.

“Nervous,” she says as she reorganizes her makeup bag for the third time.

“Want to talk about it?” he offers, but she shakes her head. If they talk, she’s not going to be able to stop herself from voicing all the worries she has, especially the ones about him. “Or there are other ways of distracting you.”

“Yes, please,” she breathes.

“Take off all your clothes and lay face down on the bed.” he says and she shivers at the command in his voice. She does as she’s told and is somewhat disappointed when she feels him straddle her still fully clothed. She forgets everything when he lays a soft kiss at the back of her neck.

His hands follow his lips and he starts to work the tense spots in her neck where she carries all her anxiety. He gently works each knot, using enough pressure to ease the tension but not too much to be the source of pain. When he's made a thorough job on her neck, he makes his way to her shoulders and then down further to her back. She’s relaxed and nearly boneless, when he stops and rolls off to lay beside her.

“Feel better?” he whispers.

She does, of course she does. If skating doesn’t work out for him, he should think about becoming a RMT. But she also feels worse because massages aren’t what this is supposed to be about.

“I know something that would make me feel even better,” she says, determined to take control of the situation. She rolls over and straddles him, and tries to ignore the confused expression on his face.

“I wasn’t trying to seduce…” he answers.

“But isn’t that what this agreement all about,” she insists. She pushes his shirt up and traces his abs, and can already feel him responding. “Sex and nothing else.”

He’s silent for a minute, until she grinds her hips down on him. He groans in response.

“Sure, Tess, if that’s what you want.” His features loose all the relaxed playfulness of a minute ago and he looks almost angry. She doesn’t have chance to consider his reaction, because she’s on her back, and he’s nipping at her neck.

It’s the roughest they’ve ever been with each other. He’s determined and she matches him. All teeth and hard fingers, it leaves her desperate and breathless. She doesn’t have to ask him to fuck her hard, because he’s never fucked her harder. When she comes, with his fingers pinching her clit, his teeth on her neck, his cock like steel inside her, she feels like she’s going to pass out. He follows, shortly after, with a groan she’s never heard before.

He’s barely caught his breath, before he’s out of her bed and putting on his clothes.

“I think it would be better, if I slept in my room,” he says and is out the door before she has a chance to respond.

Somehow, despite the amazing orgasm, she’s left feeling more unsatisfied that she’s ever felt in her life.

 

They win the next day, but Carmen is a mess. There’s no spark between them, they’re slightly out of sync for the entire performance and she almost falls during a turn. They only thing that saves her from hitting the ice, are Scott’s strong arms hauling her back up again. The audience loves it, but she can see in Marie-France’s eyes as soon as they leave the ice that it wasn’t good.

Still their scores are fine, and they take the gold, but not good enough to beat the French, who they’re going to see at Grand Prix final in a few months. She fixes the same forced smile on her face that Scott’s been wearing all day and they somehow make it through the press conference.

She immediately heads back to her room and lets the tears she’s been holding back fall as soon as the door closes. Fuck, she hates not doing her best. Hates feeling like a disappointment. A failure.

She’s still crying when the knock on her door comes. She knows it’s him. Who the fuck else would it be? She manages to get the tears under control and wash her face before she lets him in. Despite her efforts, he takes one look at her face and pulls her into a hug.

“It was a bad day,” he says when he lets her go.

“We were only two points ahead of the Shibs.”

“So, we’ll be ten points next time.” He sits down on the bed, and for the first time she notices how exhausted he looks. Did he sleep as badly as she did? “I think if we change the entry into…” 

“We need to end our business arrangement.” she blurts out. She’d been thinking about it all night and she can’t keep it in anymore.

He just stares at her for a moment, before he finally says, “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t think the sex is good for our program.” She’s going to approach this in a calm businesslike manner and then he won’t be able disagree with her. “We were on fire when we skated at the Autumn Classic and we didn’t have sex then, but we had sex last night and the program lacked it’s usual spark.”

“Do you actually think the reason we were messy today is because we had sex last night?” he uses the same voice that a parent uses on an unreasonable toddler and that makes her even more determined.

“The whole point of the business arrangement was to improve our skating, if it’s failing to do soon, and obviously in this case, hampering our skating then we have to end it.”

“You can’t…”

“And,” she cuts him off. She doesn’t need to hear his arguments. She already knows what to do. “I don’t think it’s healthy for us to be spending so much time together.”

“I don’t understand where this coming from.” 

She steels herself and ignores the crushed look on his face, the sadness in his voice. He might not see it now, but he’ll come around eventually.

“I’m doing what’s best for this partnership. What needs to be done so we can win.”

“Is there any chance that you’re ever going to do what’s best for you?” he says as he stands up, tries to take her hand and thinks better of it.

“Those are the same thing.” For some insane reason she wants to cry again, but she refuses to.

“If you say so.” He’s at the door and out of the room as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

She should feel relived, she’s doing the right thing after all, but why does she feel so devastated?

 

It would be easier if Scott were mad at her after her decision. If he were cold and distant, but he’s the same Scott with the affable smile and the quick joke. He brings an extra coffee to practice, lends her his mittens when she forgets her and eats lunch with her. The only thing that’s different is that at the end of the day she goes to her apartment and he goes to his apartment and they don’t speak again until the next day at practice. No text messages that aren’t skating related, no dinners together and absolutely no sleepovers. And no sex, although strangely, that’s sometimes the part she misses the least.

But she knows she did the right thing, because Carmen is fire at NHK, and they win by a staggering margin. And while they end up second to the French at the Grand Prix final, they win the free skate and are only two points behind, in their first big meeting. They breeze through Nationals, and she pretends it doesn’t break her heart when Alma gives her a bone crushing hug, and the Moirs go off to celebrate without her.

At least she has her Mom, Jordan and Richard, who flew all the way to Halifax just to see her. Richard and Jordan don’t say anything about the change in her relationship with Scott but she can see the disapproval in both their faces. Even Kate looks a little disappointed.

They’re training so hard in the lead up to Worlds, that she barely has time to think let alone feel lonely, but there are still the nights she aches for him. She Facetimes Richard on those evenings, but it’s never quite enough.

Still, she’s determined to stick to her plan, until a few weeks before Worlds and she’s taken out by a migraine.

She’s been troubled by migraines for most of her adult life, rearing their head two or three times a year and leaving her absolutely debilitated. She’s had two since she teamed up with Scott and each time he’s helped her through them, getting her to bed, bringing her a trash can to throw up in and making sure that no light or sound invaded her bedroom. He held her when the headache finally passed, and she felt woozy and emotional. 

When the headache hits, while she’s at a shopping mall half an hour from home, she knows she’s in trouble. No amount of medication helps, and she can’t call Scott. She manages to hail a taxi, leaving her car behind, and get in the door before she collapses on the floor. She fights the haze long enough, to send an urgent text for help, and then lies on the floor in her entry way, too disoriented to make it to her room.

Time loses all meaning when she has one of these headaches, so she isn’t sure how much time has passed when she hears the door scrape open and strong hands help her up off the floor. 

“Scott?” she tries, but isn’t sure if the words come out right.

“I’m here,” he whispers as he leads her into her room.

“I thought…I thought.” The words aren’t coming as fast as she would like. “Didn’t I text Mel and PJ?”

“They sent me,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you want your pjs?”

“I think so,” the words are slow in her mouth, stuck behind the cotton in the way. He leads her to the bed, and gives her shoulder a gentle push to get her to sit.

He shuffles around her room for a few minutes, and she tries to follow his movements, but her eyes are blurry and it makes her head hurt more to concentrate that hard.

He returns and gives her her favourite pair of pj’s. The soft ones, that are faded from wear, but make her feel safe and warm.

“Do you need help?” he asks, as he reaches out and works the elastic out of her hair so that it falls out of the bun. He takes a moment to gently massage her aching temples.

“I think I can do it,” she says and takes the pjs, indulging in the feeling of his hands on her for just a minute.

He leaves the room while she changes, returning once she’s slipped into bed, with a glass of water and a garbage can. He places the water on her bedside table and the can beside her bed, before moving to the window to close the binds. When he returns, he pulls the the blankets up to her chin and rubs his thumb across her cheek.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t think I was allowed to,” she admits, even though she probably wouldn’t if she were feeling clearer.

“We’ll talk about that when you’re feeling better. Go to sleep, it’s the only thing that helps.” He starts to leave but returns after a moment and presses a kiss to her forehead.

 

When she wakes up, she can tell she’s been asleep for a long time, and a quick glance at her cell phone, which Scott must have found in her purse and plugged into the beside charger, tells her she’s been out for sixteen hours. Her muscles ache and her neck is stiff, as she climbs out of bed, but the pain in her head has receded to a dull fogginess.

The last thing she expects to find in her living room is Scott, but there he is, still in his sleep pants, doing something on his iPad. He slept there if the neatly arranged pile of blankets and pillows beside him are any indication.

“Hey,” she says and sits down beside him.

“Feeling better?” he asks, removing the reading glasses he refuses to admit he needs. He gives her the same smile as always.

“I think so.” She takes a pillow off the pile and hugs it close to her chest.

“Mel and PJ brought your car back a few hours ago. PJ brought you a casserole but she said to tell you, she’s only seventy percent sure it’s edible but that’s at least twenty percent more confident than she usually is.” Scott has to consult a piece of paper where he wrote down her friend’s words.

“They’re good friends.”

“I’m still your friend, T. No matter what else is happening, I will always be your friend.” He takes both her hands in his. How she missed him touching her, not because he has to, but because he wants to.

“I guess I didn’t know that.” She squeezes his hands, runs her fingers over his knuckles, his thumb, his wrist, any place she can reach.

“Well, I’m telling you now. I get that we can’t go back to the way that things were before, that you’re not re…” He trips over his words but rights himself immediately “That’s not what you need, but that doesn’t mean I’m not here for you.”

“Ok.” She’s here for him too, but she doesn’t say it out loud. Doesn’t want him to misunderstand.

“You should have called me yesterday.”

“I will next time, I promise.”

“Good.” he pulls his hands away and she feels empty. “Why don’t we have PJ’s possibly edible casserole for breakfast?”

“What kind of casserole is it?” She asks as she follows him into the kitchen.

“She was very unclear about the details. I’m not sure she actually knew.”

“Ok, I’ll try it, but if I get food poisoning, I’ll know who to blame.” She’s willing to risk food poisoning, welcomes it even, if it means he’ll stay in her apartment a little longer.

 

With World’s taking place in Boston, it’s easy for everyone in the Moir and Virtue clans to make the trip to see them compete. Even Richard comes, having recently been hired by the CBC to give colour commentary on the ice dance portion of the event. He tells embarrassing stories about her, but also shows a marked favouritism towards her and Scott, so she supposes she doesn’t mind. 

With her and Scott’s renewed friendship, Alma’s back to treating her like a fourth child, and it feels like every member of the audience is on their side. They float through the rhythm dance, and it feels like her feet never touch the ice. When their scores are announced they’re noticeably behind the French team and the audience is vocal in their displeasure. Tessa doesn’t care, they went into the competition expecting to be in second. Second is the perfect place to be in, two years before the Olympics, and she’s prepared to fight for first.

Their family envelopes them in hugs as soon as they’re off the ice but quickly leave them be. They won’t really interact until after the freelance, when Alma and Kate, who appear to have become best friends since Skate Canada, have organized a celebration dinner. Richard grabs them for the most surreal interview of her life, and they sit through a press conference before they’re finally able to retreat.

“You were amazing today, kiddo,” Scott says on the ride back to the hotel, giving her hand a quick squeeze before dropping it back onto her lap. He’s taken to calling her kiddo since their friendship talk and she absolutely hates it.

“It felt so good.”

“I know what you mean.” He hasn’t stopped smiling since their skate ended, and he fidgets in his seat like a kid who’s had too much candy. “We were in the zone.”

He follows her into her room when they arrive back at the hotel, they need to go over the plan for tomorrow and visualize the free skate together. But he sits in the chair instead of plopping on her bed and none of his stuff has made it into her room.

They run through the their schedule for the next day, agree to meet for breakfast and a short yoga session, and then talk through any problems that might come up and how they plan to deal with them. When they’re done talking, he kisses her on the forehead and leaves.

Her high from competition is suddenly gone and she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Her phone while holding several messages of congratulations proves no help. Mel and PJ have each sent ten heart emojis and she wonders if they talked and decided to do the same thing or if it’s just a coincidence. Knowing them it’s the later.

She supposes she could call one of them but knows in her heart that’s not what she wants. What she wants, lies on the other side of her hotel room wall, but might as well be miles away.

 

They’re standing waiting for their turn at the free dance, the team before them about start their program, already finished their pre-competition hug, when it hits her. She realizes the timing is terrible, suspects that other than on the ice, her timing might be the worst in the world. But if she doesn’t say something in that moment, she might loose her courage all together.

“Scott?” her mouth is dry and her hands are starting to sweat. “I know this isn’t the ideal time…” 

“Do you really need to pee?” he takes his eyes off their competitors and looks at her the first time. He must be unnerved by what he sees because he instantly pales. “Are you going to throw up?”

“Maybe,” her stomach is in knots. “Just listen ok.”

He nods in response, must sense her urgency.

“I don’t want to be just friends anymore.” He starts to talk but she cuts him off. “I want things to go back to the way they were before. Well, not that whole business partners thing, because that was stupid, but I want to try being in a relationship. With you, in case that wasn’t clear.”

He just stares at her, open mouthed. The clock is ticking because the team before them just started skating, so she has maybe three and a half minutes in which to have the most important conversation of her life.

“I just, I miss you so much. I miss us so much.” She trying very hard not to cry, because she doesn’t want to ruin her makeup. “And I definitely miss the sex, but more than that I miss you being there and being ingrained in every part of my life. And I’d like to go back to that now. If we could.”

He nods at her, and she thinks he might be holding back tears and a smile slowly fades across his face. She’s not sure if he’s nodding yes because he agrees or because he’s trying to calm down the crazy woman, so she just keeps talking.

“And I know that I’ve never been in a relationship before..”

“Baby,” he finally cuts her off, and she takes what feels like her first deep breath in hours. “I’m pretty sure we’ve been in a relationship since you knocked on my door a year ago.”

“So, does that mean you’re in?”

“I’ve been all in for awhile. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.” He pulls her into a hug and doesn’t let her go until Marie comes over to tell them they have to take the ice or they’re going to be disqualified.

When they take their spot at centre ice, she runs her hand down his back like she usually does, but this time she lets herself go lower, taking a moment to appreciate his ass. She can feel him shiver as the music starts. When she skates into him almost meeting his lips in a kiss she whispers into his mouth.

“The things I’m going to do to you when we get back to the hotel.” 

His grunt of approval is loud enough to get picked up by the TV feed and becomes the source of a great deal of internet speculation.

 

It’s the most passionate Carmen they’ve ever skated. It’s also the messiest, and she doesn’t care. Doesn’t care if they come in first, second or last. They realization scares her and excites her, but she’ll admit she’s relieved when they do end up in second, barely a point behind the French. 

They can’t keep their hands off each other, stealing touches all through the medal ceremony, press conference and celebratory dinner with their families. If she thought the smile on Scott’s face after the short program, it pales in comparison to the one he sports that evening. She starts to think that it might be permanently glued there.

She thinks they’re being subtle, with the covert touches and the quick glances, but if the way Alma beams at her and the way Kate glares at Scott are any indication, they haven’t fooled their families. Her suspicions are confirmed when Jordan corners her in the bathroom.

“You two should probably get out of here before you end up fucking on the dinner table.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“You’re giving off so many pheromones, I think I just ovulated,” Jordan says, winks and reapplies her lipstick.

“Jojo!”

“Anyway, I’m glad you finally womaned up and admitted you actually like the poor bastard. He’s good people.” She should have know her sister would know what was going on, just by looking at her. 

“I’m scared,” she admits, because it’s Jordan and she’ll know anyway.

“That means you're doing the right thing, babycakes.”

She gives Jordan a hug, because dammit, her sister is the best.

“But seriously,” Jordan says as they pull apart. “Get the fuck out of here. You’re making Joe uncomfortable and Scott might not have anything left to pleasure you with, if Mom gets her hands on him.”

“You’re the worst!”

“But you love me best.”

She leaves the bathroom and finds Scott immediately. She says a quick good bye to the families and then pulls him out of the restaurant.

 

The subtle touching, goes out the window as soon as they step into the hotel elevator. It’s like Scott’s trying to touch every place on her body that’s been forbidden for the last few months. She’s not much better, her hands half way down his pants when the elevator opens. They manage to disentangle themselves for the walk down the hall, but he keeps his hand firmly planted on the back of her neck.

“Which room?” he asks.

“Who’s is closer?” 

“Yours by a couple meters.”

“Then mine.” 

They’re barely inside when he’s grabbing at her shirt, trying to get it over her head. She stops his hands with a sigh.

“Could you?” she has to take a deep breath and start again. It’s strange how hard it is to get the words out. “Could you fuck me slow and thorough tonight?”

His hands still instantly and his whole face dissolves into happiness and lust.

“Baby, I’m going to say something to you right now, and it’s going to scare you.”

She braces herself for whatever kinky ass shit he’s about to tell her.

“I love you..” he barrels on before she has a chance to react. “And I know that you are not ready to say that back and hell you might never be, but I needed you to know.”

“Ok.” And it really is ok, because he means it when he says that she doesn’t have to say it back, so it’s not terrifying. It just fills her all the way up.

She doesn’t have time to consider it further because his hands are making their way up her torso and his lips are on her neck, and she doesn’t want to think anymore.

He removes her clothes slowly, one piece at a time, showering her with compliments and describing all of the things he plans to do to her. By the time she’s naked, she’s already quivering for him.

He makes her watch, as he removes his clothing, never breaking eye contact with her. 

He takes his time touching ever part of her naked body. Telling her why he missed every part of her, what he fantasied about doing to her while they were apart.

His tongue makes the same journey and when she tries to touch him back he holds her hands in check. Tells her he doesn’t need or want the distraction. After while, she couldn't touch him if he demanded it, she can barely make her brain work.

By the time he crawls up her body, she’s desperate for him. 

“Baby, I have some bad news. I didn’t bring any condoms,” he whispers in her ear. “I thought it would take you longer to get to this point.”

“You weren’t with anyone?” She can’t be a hundred percent sure, but she thinks she would have known if he was.

“I don’t want anyone else. I can’t even imagine it.”

“I bet you could if you tried,” she jokes but his hands are still insistent on her and she doesn’t want to wait any longer. “I haven’t been with anyone, and I’m on the pill, so…”

“Tess, are you sure?”

She’s never had sex with anyone without a condom, never trusted anyone enough, but with him so open and vulnerable it just feels right. She doesn’t know how to put her feelings into words so she just nods and wraps her fingers in his hair.

He pushes into her excruciatingly slow, inch by inch and the the pace and the bareness are like nothing she’s ever felt before. She fells tears in her eyes as he fills her, can barely breath at how overwhelming it all feels. When she looks up at him, she sees everything she’s feeling reflected back on his face. 

His pace is so slow, but overwhelming, until they’re both so close they’re shaking. He only picks up the pace right at the end. Sending them both crashing over the edge after only a few frantic thrusts.

“I love you,” he whispers into her ear, as she feels senses return.

She curls her fingers tighter into his hair and pulls him into a slow kiss.

She isn’t sure what love feels like, but she knows he feels like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't had a chance, please check out my other story https://archiveofourown.org/works/19747759/chapters/46741150
> 
> Come by and say hi on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Rookandpawn1


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very ready to give up writing all together but some lovely ladies including Walkinrobe, lapetitemort, Mycatcanwrite and Denalie24, talked me down and defended my honour. So you really have them to thank for this chapter.
> 
> Well and me, because I wrote it.
> 
> It's amazing what women can do when we band together.

Being in a relationship with Tessa Virtue is a lot like what Scott imagines being in a relationship with a rabbit must be like; they’re always ready to bolt at any sudden movements and they want to fuck all the time. Fortunately, the desire to bolt can usually be dealt with by fulfilling requirement number two, so life is exceptionally happy for him right now.

And at that particular moment nothing is making him happier than watching the woman he loves try and walk around a farm in high heeled shoes and not fall over.

“Who’s stupid idea was it to have a wedding at a farm anyway?” she demands when he comes to her rescue, gently removing her heel from the grass.

“I’m guessing Joseph, since it belongs to his family.”

“Well, now I hate him,” she sulks, but looks so cute doing it that he kisses her pouting lip.

“Do you want me to get your flats?” he offers.

“Only if the words I told you so don’t come with the flats.”

He did warn her not to wear heels for the rehearsal dinner on the lawn but she’d insisted the flats she’d brought didn't go with her dress. Instead of pointing this out, he just holds out his hand for her heels.

“I’ll reward you for your restraint later,” she whispers in his ear as she hands over her shoes.

She’s talking to Richard when he returns and he just watches them for a few minutes. He knows he sees her almost every minute of everyday, but he’s still bowled over by her beauty. In a simple sundress and barefoot, while the wind tosses her hair, she’s like some kind of fantasy come true. Even better a fantasy he gets to fuck every night, and well earlier that afternoon.

When she snort laughs at something Richard says, it doesn’t ruin the fantasy. It just makes it better.

“I thought you only laughed like that for me,” he jokes as he hands her the shoes.

“It’s a partner only thing.” Her eyes twinkle at him as she puts her hand in his.

“I thought I was special.”

“There’s definitely something else that I only do with you,” she waggles her eyebrows at him.

“I’m going to throw up.” Richard deadpans. “You two are disgusting. I liked you better when you were bitter and jaded.”

“You’re just jealous because you and Joseph are already an old married couple.” she says as she holds holds Scott’s gaze. He shivers at what that look means and mentally does a calculation of how long they have to stay at the party before they can discretely leave. “And I’m still bitter and jaded, but I’m also sexually satisfied.

“What was so funny?” he asks hoping to divert her attention until a more appropriate time.

It works.

“Richard has hay fever,” she crows.

“I’m so glad that my pain causes you joy.”

“Told you I was still bitter and jaded.” She and Richard snipe at each other but there’s so much affection under their words that he can’t help but laugh along.

“Why did you agree to a wedding on a farm if you have hay fever?”

“Because it was Joesph’s dream.”

“Tell him the real reason,” Tessa counters without pausing.

“Because I knew it would annoy my mother,” he admits. All three of them turn to look at Richard’s mother a beautiful but seriously overdressed woman who is sitting on a lawn chair looking like a queen about to receive her subjects.

“Maman hates nature,” Richard offers as if that weren’t obvious. “I think she thought it was her wedding and she was being unreasonable with her demands, so when Joseph suggested the farm, I made a rash decision.”

“It really is beautiful, though and Joseph looks so happy,” Tessa says and gives Richard’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Yes, well, I’m glad someone is happy. Are you two…” he doesn’t get a chance to answer as his mother bellows his name in all its French glory. “I have been summoned. I’d better go answer her majesty before she takes out her irritation on anyone else.”

They both laugh as they watch them scamper away. Scott pulls Tessa into a hug and she falls into his arms easily. Normally she’s wary of public displays of affection but he imagines she fells safe on a farm in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people she loves.

“Do you have your best woman speech ready?”

“Mostly. Just trying to think of a few more embarrassing stories.” She looks up at him with smile.

“You might not want to go too embarrassing or he might get revenge when you get married.”

“Not a problem, because I’m never getting married,” she teases back.

He’s not sure how to describe what happens to him next but it feels like his heart falls into his stomach before launching back into his chest. Something akin to one of those drop rides at an amusement park.

“Why do you say that?” he says carefully to avoid the inevitable rabbit like bolting. Maybe if she doesn’t know they’re having a serious conversation she won’t run away, or shut it down by having sex with him. Not that he minds the second tactic, but this is something they should talk about.

She gives him the look. The look that means she knows exactly what he’s doing and she isn’t pleased. She’s just about to say something when a screech from across the lawn interrupts them.

“Moir! Take your hands off my virginal sister!” Jordan yells and every head turns to look at her. Richard’s Maman glares and Jordan flips her off before everyone goes back to the conversations they were in before her arrival.

“I forgot Jordan was going to be here,” he admits. He’ll let their discussion slide for now.

“That was your first mistake.”

“Does that mean your mom…”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish because Jordan has finally made her way to them and has tackled Tessa to the ground. They roll around laughing for a few minutes before Kate arrives and gives them a dirty look. It’s not nearly as devastating as the look she gives to Scott when she sees him.

“Hello, Scott Moir.” She says his name like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Kate,” he nods and tries to think of something to say that will make her not hate him, but since he can’t truthfully say I’m not sleeping with your daughter, he comes up short.

“Mom, leave him alone,” Tessa says as she stands up. She has grass in her hair and a smile on her face and he thinks she’s never been more beautiful.

“Geeze, Mom. Can’t you see he’s shitting his pants in fear,” Jordan adds.

“Why don't I take you over to Richard’s Maman,” Tessa says her eyes doubling in volume as she glares at Jordan. “I know how you two get along.”

“Is there anything I can do to make your mom not want me dead?” he asks as Tessa leads Kate away.

“Are you going to stop looking at T like you want to fuck her all the time?” Jordan asks.

“No.”

“Then she’s going to want you dead forever.” Jordan pats him on the back. “Sucks to be you, boi! But congrats on getting her to actually admit she’s dating you. No one’s ever pulled that off before.”

“Thanks.” It’s hard to know when Jordan is being serious or not.

“Just take care of her, ok.” Jordan’s face softens in exactly the same way Tessa does. “She’s not great at doing that for herself and she really deserves it.”

“That’s all I want.”

“Great. Then I won’t have to kick your ass.” Jordan says, smiles, punches him in the gut and walks away.

“Your sister is terrifying,” he says when Tessa hugs him from behind.

“I’m aware.” she says with a shrug, before threading her fingers through his. Even though he’s found the last few minutes an overwhelming information dump, she has this ability to ground him with her touch. He instantly feels better.

“So, Richard claims that one of my duties as best woman is to sit with Maman at dinner, which I have agreed to do instead of giving him a wedding present. Sorry about that, but on the upside, those ridiculously expensive wine glasses are coming home with us.”

“Those are nice wine glasses,” he agrees. “But I think I’m going to need a little more incentive if I’m also going to agree to sit with your mother too.”

“Oh, I have a plan to reward you for that,” she leans in closer so he’s the only one who can hear. “First, I was thinking we…”

“Tess! Is that you?” A voice interrupts her further explanation.

“Conner!” she bellows back in a very unTessa fashion.

The two engage in a hug that seems decidedly friendly and goes on for far too long for Scott’s taste. The hug goes on long enough for him to notice that Conner is both very good looking and even more upsetting very tall. It’s not that he’s insecure about his height. He’s fine with being on the shorter side of average, but Tessa’s taste in men tends towards the vertically blessed. So it’s not that he’s jealous, just cautious.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” she says when they finally pull apart, but she keeps her hand on Conner’s upper arm, almost like she’s feeling his bicep. Biceps, that Scott notes, seem to too large if the way his shirt stretches across them is any indication.

“I didn't think I would either but work freed up at the last minute.” Conner smiles at her, showing what appear to be capped teeth.

“How long has it been?” she smiles back ignoring the flaws in his obvious teeth. No one’s teeth should be that straight or that white, it’s not natural.

“Last time I swung through Montreal. So, six months.”

Six months? If he had a drink he would spit it out. Six months ago they were, well whatever they were, but she was definitely sleeping with him then.

“I can’t believe it’s been that long. You look fantastic.” She laughs and tosses her hair, and Scott has had enough and clears his throat. Meaningfully.

“You must be the new partner,” Conner says smoothly, turning and flashing his obnoxious smile at Scott. Tessa finally lets go of his fucking shoulder so her can extend his hand. “Scott, right.”

“That’s me.” He tries to slip his arm around Tessa’s waist but she dodges him. His jaw immediately does that thing that makes it hurt for hours afterward.

“Listen, T, I have to go talk to the grooms, but it sounds like we’re going to be sitting together at dinner, so let’s catch up then.” Conner doesn’t bother to acknowledge him after the initial greeting.

“I’d love that,” she says and has the audacity to giggle.

“So that’s Conner?” he says through his teeth when she finally stops watching Conner walk away.

“Why are you doing that with your jaw?”

“I’m not doing anything with my jaw.”

“Well, whatever you’re not doing to your jaw looks really uncomfortable, so you might want to stop.” She rubs her hand up and down his arm, touching him for the first time since Conner showed up. “I think it’s time to sit down to dinner.”

She pulls him toward the table without a care in the world. His jaw already aches.

 

He gets to sit across from Tessa at dinner which is normally ideal, because he gets to look directly at her beautiful face all night. This time is about the worst scenario possible because Conner sits beside her, immediately puts his arm around the back of the chair and he gets a front row view of the show.

He pours her wine.

He compliments her dress.

He reminds her of the weekend they spent in Wine Country.

He squeezes her shoulder.

And Scott has to watch it all with a smile on his face, while Kate sits on his left and chats with Maman in French. Jordan is on his right but she’s too busy hitting on one of Joseph’s brother’s to pay any attention to him. When he finally gets Jordan’s attention, she only makes matters worse.

“Conner,” she answers. He can tell by the slight slur to her words that she’s about four drinks in. “He’s hot, right?”

“But how does he know T?”

“They dated for like two months,” she says and then bursts out laughing. “I think he was her longest relationship before you. That's so funny!”

“Yes, hysterical.” 

“I think he might still have a thing for her,” Jordan pats his cheek and goes back to flirting.

When Conner casually starts running his thumb across the spot where Tessa’s neck meets her shoulder, in the exact spot he claimed a long time ago, he’s had enough.

“I’m really tired.” He fakes a yawn and stretches his arms over his head. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

“It’s eight-thirty.” She gives him the you’re crazy look when Conner, fucking Conner laughs.

“You have a really big day tomorrow.” He stands up and Maman and Kate click their tongues at him.

He’s halfway across the lawn before she catches up with him.

“Have you lost your mind?” she demands.

“I don’t know have I lost my mind?” He’s vaguely aware that he sounds like a crazy person, but all he can see is red.

“I feel like there’s no way I can answer that question correctly,” she yells back, then takes a deep, calming breath. He’s seen her do it before when she’s frustrated at practice. “Are you mad? Why are you mad?”

The fact that she doesn’t know, that she could be so oblivious sends him over the edge.

“I’m going back to the hotel. Are you coming?” he needs to leave before he does something stupid.

“I can’t leave.” She looks so confused, that for a moment he softens. Then he notices Conner lingering nearby.

“I’ll see you back at the hotel.” 

He walks away so fast that he doesn’t hear her answer.

 

It’s been two hours, three beers and four angry, unanswered messages to his brother, when Tessa finally comes home.

“I am so fucking mad at you!” she hisses the second the door closes behind her. She’s holding her heels in her hand like she’s not sure if she’s going to put them on the floor or use them stab him through the heart.

“Well, I’m so fucking mad at you.” His retort doesn’t sound as intimidating, through the slight slur of alcohol.

“You left me alone! Do you know how embarrassing that was?” She throws her shoes on the floor and starts to come towards him.

“I had to leave!”

“Why?”

“Because Conner was all over you!”

She stalks over to the bed where he’s standing until they’re basically nose to nose.

“You’re jealous.”

“I am not.” He’s not. He's not the kind of guy who gets jealous. Was never once jealous of Amy. That’s not what’s going on, here.

“Yes. You. Are.” 

She shoves him down on to the bed, and before he has a chance to react crawls onto the bed and straddles him.

“Why the fuck are you jealous of Conner?” she still looks furious but less like she wants to kill him. He responds almost immediately, because it’s hard to convince his cock that this isn’t the time when she’s sitting right on top of it.

“Because he was touching you.” He has to keep reminding himself that she’s in the wrong, but it’s hard to focus between the alcohol and the grinding.

“When?”

“All the time. And then at dinner, he touched my spot.”

Her eyes widen and she leans forward so her lips are almost touching his but just out of reach. She puts a hand on each of his shoulders and pins him down. He knew she was strong but not that strong.

“Your spot? Are you talking about this spot?” she turns her head and taunts him with the spot. “There was a bug there and he was brushing it off, you idiot. I would never let anyone touch your spot.”

She lowers her neck to him. Lets him nip at it until she moans and then pulls away.

“Why else were you jealous? Just because he touched your spot?” 

“Jordan said you used to date. That he was your longest relationship.” It’s hard to concentrate on words when she’s tonguing his neck.

“First of all, never listen to Jordan. Jordan loves to stir up shit.” She undoes all buttons on his shirt before she speaks again. “And second, we went out for a week, he was gone for six weeks and then we decided to just be friends.”

“Oh,” he answers partly because he’s an idiot and partly because he can’t form words when she’s doing that with her tongue.  
“Is that all it takes to make Scott Moir jealous? A little touching and some rumours. I thought you were made of stronger stuff than that? Or are you also going to loose your shit around Javier Fernandez, because I dated him for a hot minute too.”

She pulls her dress off, and reveals she’s naked except for a tiny pair of red panties. Every synapses in his brain simultaneously shuts down and he can’t quite remember why he was angry.

“Focus Moir,” she says and then makes it impossible to do that by putting his hands on her breasts. “Why did you behave like a petulant child and leave me alone when we could have been doing this on a hay bale in the barn. I had plans.”

How did she know that barn sex was one of his fantasies. Why did he ever doubt this miracle of a woman?

“Why? Were? You? So? Jealous.” she punctuates each question with a thrust of her hips.

“Because you didn’t tell him about us!” the anger he thought was gone explodes out of him and he grabs her and pulls her flush to him. “You wouldn’t let me touch you in front of him.”

She gasps and takes his bottom lip between her teeth, works it for a moment before he speaks.

“Conner is the biggest gossip in the world and a reporter. I didn’t want our personal life splashed all over the news, before we had a chance to decide that’s what we wanted. You fucking moron.”

She finally kisses him. Devours him more accurately. Tessa might be pissed off by jealous Scott, but she’s very, very turned on too.

“I am a fucking moron,” he agrees when she finally releases his mouth.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now you’re going to make it up to me, with your mouth and using as few words as possible.” She pulls off her panties and flings them across the room. “And if you do a good enough job apologizing, I might let you fuck me afterwards.”

She pulls herself up his body until she’s hovering over his mouth. He places both hands on her hips and pulls her down to his mouth. Once her gets to work, he uses every trick in his book, his nose his tongue his teeth. Every time she gasps he works hard, every moan is rewarded. He may be a fucking jealous moron, but he’s going to make sure she knows he’s very, very contrite.

When she comes, she collapses on top of him. Her legs and body shake, even after she rolls off of him, and he can’t help but be a little proud of himself.

“Was that an adequate apology?” he asks when her hand reaches out to blindly pat him on the chest. She doesn’t respond just flips over onto all fours and throws a look at him over her shoulder. He removes the rest of his clothes so quickly even he’s impressed. As soon as he slides into her, he knows this isn’t going to be one of those times he can take his time with her. She's already pushing back into him and he responds with a punishing pace. He knows he could come at any minute, but he’s determined to get her there again before he does. It’s the least he can do, given his behaviour. 

It’s always overwhelming being with her, the way she envelopes him with her heat, her sounds, her smells. But he manages to hold on until she falls again and he chases her there moments after. 

She stays on her stomach when he rolls onto his back, but she gives him the most tender smile he’s seen in hours.

“Never do something like that to me again,” she says finally.

“I’m so sorry, T. I never felt like that before, I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’ve never been jealous before?” she rolls over to face him and props her head up on her hand.

He racks his brain to find an instance. Jealous of his brothers when he was younger, sure. Jealous of other skater’s marks, definitely. But of a girlfriend, never.

“Amy was cheating on you.” she’s outraged when he shakes his head. “Did you just not notice she was spending a lot of time with the crypt keeper?”

“I noticed.” Did he notice? Sort of but it never occurred to him that Amy would lie about why she was spending so much time with their coach. “I guess I just trusted her.”

“And you don’t trust me?” He hates how hurt she sounds, that he did that to her.

“Of course I trust you. It’s not…” he snuggles closer to her so they’re nose to nose and wraps his arm around her. “It’s me. I used to believe that love was this powerful thing that could never hurt me, but then Amy did just that. And it kind of ruined me a little.”

“How so?” she’s so serious when she listens to him, gives him her full attention like nothing else important could possibly be happening in the world.

“Losing Amy hurt, but I know that if I lost you I wouldn’t be able to recover. Not for a long, time and maybe not forever.”

She leans forward and kisses him gently on the lips, before pulling away and smiling at him.

“Sometimes I wished we’d found it each other first, so I’d never had to go through the heartbreak,” he explains before she can say anything. “But then I know that the heartbreak is what makes me love you even more.”

“Your tongue is also very talented with words.” He smiles back, pulls her even closer. “But next time maybe talk to me instead of running off.”

“I’ll apologize to Richard and Joseph tomorrow.” He’s going to have to eat crow in front of a lot of people.

“You don’t have to. I covered for your jealous ass and told everyone you had diarrhea.” She gives him a wicked grin.

“I think you maybe, a little bit liked my jealous ass.” He just loves her. Everything about her. It’s so hard not to tell her every minute of every day.

“I always like your ass,” she agrees and grabs it to emphasize her point. “And I will admit that you being jealous got me a little hot. We just need to channel all that energy into better activities.”

“That can definitely be arranged.” 

He giggles along with her as he pulls her on top of him and runs his fingers through her hair.

 

It does something to him, seeing Tessa standing up at the altar next to Richard. Her elegant, knee length dress is the palest pink in colour and in some lights looks like it could be a wedding dress. If they switched places, she could easily be mistaken for a bride. He’s never seen her look more beautiful, with her hair cascading down her back in loose curls and a flower crown on her head, and he has an extensive list of her looking beautiful moments. She winks at him when she finds him in the crowd, gives him her whole teeth grin, and nope there’s the most beautiful he’s ever seen her.

When the music starts playing, and Joseph walks through the door and Richard immediately bursts in into ugly sobbing tears. Joseph takes one look at the normally composed and refined Richard blubbering and he starts crying. It takes only a moment for T to follow, and he’s never been able to watch her cry under any circumstances without joining in. By the time the grooms hold hands, he’s not sure there’s a dry eye on the farm. Even Maman looks moved.

He’s never seen a more joyous wedding ceremony. There’s so much love and laughter. But he can’t take his eyes off T, who looks so beautiful and relaxed that he misses half of what’s said. She’s not wearing the mask she wears in public and only sometimes drops when she’s around him, and he can feel how much she loves the men she’s standing with. There’s so much love in her heart it’s amazing to him that she hasn't realized how much she has to give.

When the ceremony ends, he’s almost disappointed. He’s never laughed and cried that much at a wedding. As Tessa follows them down the aisle, she grabs his hand and pulls him along with her. 

“I only have a minute before we have to take pictures,” she says when she pulls him away from the guests and to a corner where no one can see them. “But I didn’t get to kiss you this morning.”

He loves it when she kisses him like this. Desperate and full of promise for later. When she’s finished, she wraps her arms around him and tucks her head under her chin.

“It was weird waking up after you were gone. Usually, I have to drag you out of bed,” he says.

“I didn't like leaving without saying good bye, but from the copious drooling it looked like you were having a good sleep.” He can feel her giggles through his chin. “I have to go be a best woman again. Don’t talk to Jordan while I’m gone.”

She starts to walk away and then stops, “Or Conner. Or my mom. Just don’t talk to anyone. Sit in a corner and think about how you still have to make things up to me.

“Could I make things up to you in a barn?” he calls after her and she flips him off.

 

“I’ve known Richard for almost my entire life and was his partner for half of it,” Tessa starts her speech just after dessert is served, and unlike the speeches by Maman and Joseph’s brother, the room shuts up when she starts speaking. That’s his girl, commanding a room with her presence and a few words. “And so I speak from experience when I say that Joseph is one of the luckiest men in the world to have him for a partner now. And that he owes me big time, because I also recognized how great they would be together, so really this event wouldn’t even be happening if it weren’t for me.”

The crowd laughs and she lets them settle before she continues.

“But in all seriousness, I didn’t believe in love for a very long time. I thought it was just lust and fleeting at that. Something that caused people heartache and pain and I was determined to avoid it at all costs,” she’s tearing up when she stops looking at the happy couple, and looks directly at him. “But more and more I’ve come to realize that love is something worth taking a chance on, that it maybe is possible to love someone for your whole life,” she winks at him and turns back to her friends.

“And I never would have believed it, if it weren’t for watching these two amazing, adorable and sometimes judgemental men find each other, love each other and make what I know is a life time commitment to each other. So let’s raise a glass to the happy grooms, but instead of cheers let’s say thank you to them for the amazing example they are to us and for everything they’ve added to our lives.”

Scott’s thank you is the loudest of them all.

 

He barely gets a moment with her for the majority of the night, but they manage to sneak in a few slow dances, and one fast song, that gets a glare from Kate.

Most of the guests are gone, when she drops into his lap and snuggles up, with a whispered, “Babe.”

“I like it when you call me that,” he answers and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“That’s why I do it.”

Her hair is a mess, he make up is a faint memory and she’s sweaty and he thinks half drunk, but she looks so, so happy.

“I guess all weddings aren’t terrible.”

“No?”

“No.” she smiles and leans in. “So, I checked and the barn is a nice distance from this reception and the house, you know the kind of place where you could be really loud and no one would hear or come to see what’s happening.” “That is an interesting piece of information.”

“Also, it looks like someone set up some blankets and pillows there, so it would be a comfortable place for I don’t know activities that involve laying down.” She has the most wicked grin in her eye and this time his cock knows it’s the right time to get involved.

“Or standing up. Or bending over,” he adds, finding his spot with a lazy finger.

“Or all of the above.”

“I’m interested to see what you’d like to do with all of this information you’ve acquired.”

“Well,” she winds his tie around her hand and pulls him as close as she can. “If you’d like to know, I’d suggest you wait two minutes, and then follow me there, so I can give you a hands on demonstration.” 

She tugs him close, and gives him a quick kiss.

As he watches her saunter out of the reception, he can only think one thing.

God, I love that woman.

And even more, he thinks she might almost be ready to admit she loves him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Twitter as @Rookandpawn1. Come by and say hi.
> 
> I don't think I'd keep this up if it weren't for all the lovely and encouraging comments you leave. Please know that they mean the world to me.


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a hot minute, hasn't it. I'm sorry. Life, other stories and writer's block got in the way. Hopefully you'll forgive the wait.

“Oh, god!” Jeffery Buttle yells, in what Tessa considers an over the top way, as she as Scott enter their first Stars on Ice practice holding hands. “Are you two a couple?”

That question still makes her crazy. She’s not trying to hide the fact that they’re dating, They are holding hands in public after all, but the suggestion that they’re in a committed relationship still makes her want to run in the opposite direction.

Scott must sense her instinctual panic and grips her hand a little tighter, gives her an encouraging smile, and is about to say something when she answers for him.

“What of it, Buttle.”

Jeff just shakes his head and walks away. She thinks she hears him mumble “And we thought things were slutty last year.”

Scott has to physically stop her from killing him.

“Our programs aren’t slutty,” she says as the finish their rehearsal of “Good Kisser”. Sure “What’s Love” is a little handsy but the song calls for it. And no one needs to know they picked it when they slow danced to it after their barn sex adventure at Richard’s wedding.

“T, we’re skating to a song about oral sex. That’s a little slutty,” he says after he finally stops laughing.

“We’re what?” she screeches and everyone turns to look at her. Buttle has a far too self satisfied look on his face.

“How can you not have know that?” he whispers when she hits him in the stomach. “Didn’t you listen to the lyrics?”

“I was paying attention to the skating.”

“I sing it to you every time we skate.” He just shakes his head at her.

“Well, I didn't know.” She can feel herself blush.

“How is it that you can be one of the most innocent women I’ve ever met and so fucking filthy at the same time?” He shakes his head again and kisses the top of her head. “You might be perfect.”

So maybe their programs are a little slutty. Maybe they do get a little handsy in the group number Buttle choreographed for them, but that’s what the choreography calls for, if anyone is to blame it’s him. And if their interpretation is maybe a little more sensual then the other teams, well that’s because they believe in giving one hundred percent to everything they do. 

Plus she really likes touching Scott. 

Really really likes touching him.

And other than on ice there has been very little touching and she’s starting to get frustrated, and horny.

They aren’t sharing a room because they neglected to tell anyone they were a couple and so now they both have roommates. Roommates who seem to always be in their rooms and who refuse to see the logic in Tessa’s many arguments about how it would just be easier for everyone if she and Scott could share a room instead. Poor little Katelyn Osmond looks like she’d rather share a room with satan than Patrick Chan.

A week into the tour, she’s getting desperate because feeling Scott up on ice is not enough anymore. She’s considering paying for a hotel room out of her own pocket when Scott catches a cold. 

Normal Scott is a beautiful and wonderful man who is kind and funny. Man Cold Scott is a nightmare. He’s needy and whiney and really, really snotty. Like constantly blowing his nose and leaving the tissues everywhere. And there is absolutely nothing sexy about him. Although, she does feel enough sympathy to bring him tea and chicken noodle soup, but absolutely, positively not to have sex with him.

Things are looking promising when he finally recovers, only for her to come down with it the very next day. She wants to scream in sexual frustration but her throat hurts too much. What she really wants is to screw in sexual satisfaction, but that clearly isn’t going to happen.

Scott is a much better nurse than she is. If ice dance doesn’t work out for him, it’s definitely a career path he should consider. He takes her temperature and makes sure she takes her meds on schedule. Plus he cuddles with her despite how gross she is. But she has no desire to have sex with him because her libido died along with her ability to breath through her nose.

When they leave the east coast behind, she’s finally starting to feel better and as they’re about to take the ice, a very important thought occurs to her.

“Babe,” she whispers to him as they go through the opening choreography. It’s easy enough that they can talk and skate at the same time. “I just realized that we’re going to be in Montreal tomorrow.”

God love him, he looks confused.

“Which means we can go home and do whatever we want in our mostly sound proof apartment.”

His only response is a groan.

Their choreography is so slutty that she’d be embarrassed if she wasn’t so fucking horny.

There’s no time to go to their apartment when they arrive but just the idea, the knowing they can finally be together is strangely enough for her. Like a prolonged, intense foreplay. His eyes find her everywhere she goes. They’re always very aware of one but this is different. He stares at her like she’s his prey. She can't wait for him to catch her.

When they take the ice, he slowly runs his hand up her arm and then runs a finger across her collar bone. It’s not a part of the choreography and everyone knows it. The audience explodes into a series of hoots and screams. And she can’t help the truly satisfied grin that spreads across her face.

Once the audience settles down and they’re about to start, the loudest whoo hoo she’s ever heard, erupts through the arena. It can only mean one thing; PJ and Mel are in the audience.

When the music starts they’re in the zone, and they can’t keep their hands off one another. All she can think about is getting him home and doing all the things they haven’t been able to do. By the end of the program she knows they better get home before they have sex on the ice. 

Nobody paid for that. It’s a family show after all.

Mel and PJ are waiting for them after the meet and greet. They’re dressed head to toe is Stars on Ice merch and carrying a giant “T & S FORVER” sign. They’re ridiculous and she loves them.

“We were going to take you out for drinks,” Mel starts after they’ve all screamed and hugged each other.

“But after what we just witnessed, we think it’s best if you just head home,” PJ finishes.

She’d love to disagree, but there’s not a chance in hell she will.

 

It’s a quiet cab ride to the apartment. They keep their fingers intertwined but a safe distance away from one another. There are a million thoughts running through her head and they all want to burble across her lips, but she feels overwhelmed by him and somehow too nervous to talk.

Her apartment is just as she left it, but she wonders as she looks around, is it really just her apartment anymore? His jackets hang at her front door, the packed here together before they left, She doesn’t want to spend another night without him.

“Do you want to move in together?” the words startle both of them.

“Really?” he can’t hide his surprise, but recovers quickly, a smile taking over his features, his entire demeanour.. “I’d like that.”

He comes over to where she’s standing by the door and slowly invades her space. Doesn’t touch her but is so, so close.

“Is it too soon?” She can feel her breathing pick up. It’s like he’s touching her everywhere all at once, when all he’s doing is looking at her.

“Who cares?” he leans forward so their foreheads are touching. She’s on fire.

She just nods, they can work out the details later, there are more pressing matters at the moment.

She leans forward this time, find his lips. She was expecting things to move a furious pace but they both seem to realize, that even though it’s been far too long, they can take their time.

His hands work their way into her hair as they stand by what she already thinks of as their front door.

The kiss and kiss, like two horny teenagers who’ve just discovered the joys of kissing, who could be caught at anytime. They only stop when she starts to work the buttons of the dress shirt she bought for him in Halifax. He watches her undress him. Lets her remove each article of his clothing, until he’s standing before her in all his naked toned glory. He takes her breath away in the dim light of their living room. 

He kisses her again, this time urgent and insistent, before he starts to work on her clothes. Teasing her as he removes each layer. Finding his favourite spot on her neck when he removes her sweater, caresses the underside of her breast as he removes the lace bra that she wore just for him. Her legs buckle as he slowly removes her underwear and she feels his hot breath on her pussy, wishing it were his tongue instead.

When they’re finally free from their clothes, he follows her to their bedroom, sweeping her hair to the side and working the back of her neck with his mouth. She’s incoherent by the time they finally make it to the bed. He knows what that does to her and he takes full advantage.

He turns her around suddenly, and she can't help the gasp that escapes her. That gasp ignites a fire in him that she’s never seen before. His eyes go wide and dark and almost feral expression takes over his feature and in a blink, she’s on her back and he’s kneeling between her legs.

“Did you really not know what Good Kisser was about.” His voice is low and scratchy, it makes her crazy. He seems like he might do anything in that moment and she loves it.

“No.”

“Guess I’ll have to remind you.”

He parts her folds carefully, takes her in, before he gently blows on her clit. It’s the last thing he does gently because suddenly his mouth is on her, his tongue greedy and demanding as he does everything he can to remind her. Fuck, his tongue is magic and it’s no time before her orgasm is starting to build. He looks up at at her when she almost there and winks. All it takes after that is two more swipes of his tongue and she’s gone, pushed over the edge.

“How many nights has it been,” he whispers in her ear, the whole weigh of his body pressed in to her the way she likes. She still in the midst of her orgasm, can barely process what he’s saying.

“How many?” he demands when she fails to answer.

“Six.” she manages to breath out.

“Then I guess that’s how many orgasms I owe you.”

“Scott, I can’t come six times,” she groans.

“I think you’ll do everything I tell you to do,” he growls.

His mouth is back on her pussy before she can blink. Orgasm number two follows hard on the heels of orgasm number one.

“Baby, please…” she whines as he flips her over while she’s still trying to regulate her breathing.

“I like it when you beg,” he says as he runs his finger down her spin and teases her ass with his cock. He’s so hard and all she can think about is how good he’ll feel inside her.

“Please, please.” she begs as he pulls her up onto all fours. This demanding Scott does something to her. “Please fuck me.”

He slams into her without warning. Her knees buckle from the force of it. She can’t think, can only feel as he sets a relentless pace. She’s no help at all, so strung out from what he’s already done and what he continues to do that she can only hold on. The nonsense and curses she babbles only drive him on.

“Do it for me baby,” he growls when her pussy starts to flutter.

“I can’t”

He suddenly stills. 

“Oh, I think you can.”

“Please,” her request comes out in a breath of air. He raises an eyebrow and she knows what’s coming. His hand meets her ass with a loud slap and that’s it, she’s gone. Barely conscious as he returns to his frantic pace. It doesn’t take long before he’s over the edge too. Groaning so loud, that she almost wishes she was up for orgasm four.

“I didn’t make it to six,” she whispers when he’s wrapped around her, holding her tight and gently breathing in her ear.

“I thought you might need a little break.”

She laughs and then stops when he speaks again.

“But I fully intend to collect every last one.”

 

He’s as good as his word, waking her up twice through the night. They’re both so tired that they sleep through her alarm and only wake up to the sound of heavy and insistent knocking on her apartment door.

She’s still drowsy, that when she opens the door and PJ falls in at her feet, it takes a moment for Tessa to realize that she must have been sitting with her back to the door.

“Oh hey,” her friend says, as if there’s nothing strange about her lying on the floor half in and half out of her apartment. “We have a bit of a crisis.”

“Why were you sitting on the floor?” she asks as she helps her friend up.

“I’ve been there since five am,” PJ explains as she sits down on the couch. Scott comes out of the bedroom, sees the other woman and immediately turns round, hopefully to return fully clothed. “But when I got here there was… a lot of noise.”

She and PJ stare at one another for a moment before they both nod.

“Good work Scott!” she calls before continuing with her story. “Anyway, the noises went on for awhile, so I must have fallen asleep. I woke up to the binging of forty three messages from Mel altering me to the crisis and to get over here, but I was already here, so I started knocking.”

“Wait, what?” Tessa asks, just as Scott reemerges from the bedroom wearing all of his clothes and a hoody.

“Anyway, it’s about this,” PJ explains and shows them an article on her phone.

She takes it and sees Amy’s perfect, California smile beaming back at her.

“You should read it, too.” PJ says to Scott through a yawn. He can’t quite make eye contact with the other woman who is smirking at him. “Skip the first two questions of the interview. It’s all about how blissfully happy she is with her new husband. How old is he? Ninety-two?”

Tessa couldn’t love her friend more that she does in that moment.

“It’s the third question where things really go wrong.” PJ yawns again and stretches out on the couch, while she and Scott read the interview.

Interviewer: How did you feel about being on tour with Scott following the Olympics.  
Amy: Obviously, it was one of the most difficult times of my life. Scott and I were very distant with one another.

Interviewer: There was a lot of internet buzz about the way Tessa and Scott performed together during the tour.  
Amy: I won’t say that their behaviour was inappropriate but it certainly wasn’t family friendly.

Interviewer: And now they’re partners and if rumours are true a couple.  
Amy: I’m happy for them, obviously and glad to see they’re so successful. It’s a shame that some people can move on so quickly, sometimes before their previous relationship is over. I don’t really worry about it though, because I’m so very happy in my relationship with my husband.

“Son of a bitch,” Tessa can’t help the curse.

“Let me guess you’re at the cheating part,” Mel answers from her spot on the couch. PJ’s half asleep with her feet in Mel’s lap.

“When did you get here?” she’d been so engrossed in the article she hadn’t noticed.

“Son of a bitch!” Scott curses too. “She cheated on me!”  
“Has this been out long? Have people seen it?” Tessa throws PJ her phone and tries to remember where she left hers. It’s probably in her pants pocket, which are in in a pile of her’s and Scott’s clothes by the door.

“If you’re looking for your underwear, they’re under the kitchen table. I saw them when I was laying on the floor.” PJ says, what Tessa suspects she thinks is helpfully.

“And your bra is hanging from that chair over there.” Mel, if the smirk on her face is any indication, is not trying to be helpful.

“I wouldn’t look at your phone,” PJ says as she jumps up and tries to grab Tessa’s pants from her.

“The internet is not fond of you right now.” Mel adds.

But she’s faster than both of them, and manages to get her phone and look before anyone can stop her.

Her friends are right of course. Tweet after tweet calling her a home wrecker, a slut, a whore. People leaving horrific messages on her Instagram pictures. Even a few death threats.

“Oh, God,” she whispers. Someone, she thinks maybe Mel, leads her to the couch, where Scott wraps her in a hug.

“It’s going to be ok,” he whispers, wipes away the tears on her cheeks.

“But what they’re saying…”

“It doesn’t matter. We know the truth.”

“Did you see?”

“No and I’m not going to,” he shakes his head and pries the phones out of her hands. “And you shouldn’t either.”

It’s not going to solve anything, but she thinks he’s right. Looking is only going to make a bad situation worse.

“Do not let her have her phone back under any circumstances,” Mel says and then turns to PJ. “And why have you been here since five in the morning?”

“I slept with Nick and then snuck out while he was sleeping, and Tess is usually up really early, and she was but occupied.” PJ blurts out and instantly looks like she was to take it all back, even goes so far as to cover her mouth. Her confession throws the room into a stunned silence.  
“What?” Mel pulls it together first. “Don’t you have to be on air with him, like right now?”

“I couldn’t face him. So I called in sick.” She turns bright.

“And you just thought we weren’t going to talk about this?” Mel yells.

“No, but Tess’ crisis was more crisisy than mine.”

“I can’t believe…”

Scott pulls her close as Mel continues to yell at PJ until she starts crying. Then the two women hug and decide to go get pancakes.

“It’s going to blow over. You’ll see,” he says and kisses her forehead. She’s positive he’s wrong, but she’ll let herself live in Scott’s rose coloured world for at least a few hours.

 

To say their reception at the next stop is lukewarm is an understatement. There’s some polite applause and a few hoots and hollers from the six people in the audience who don’t have the internet, but nothing like they were getting before the world decided they were cheating assholes.

At the next stop, there are no hoots and hollers, even more tepid applause and she thinks a few boos. Scott doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, doesn’t let on, while he’s busy holding her while she cries.

Their programs are shit because she’s so afraid to touch him and look slutty that they keep missing their handholds. Things only get worse when she gives into temptation and looks at the internet. The comments are even worse than before. Whole blogs devoted to how much they hate her. How dirty they did Amy. Every name in the world hurled at her and how she stole Scott from a loving and committed relationship. It’s so bad that she has to turn off comments. Considers deleting her account entirely. She must look like shit, because when she returns to the ice even Jeff Buttle looks sorry for her.

There’s no point in responding. The public has already chosen sides and they are firmly on Amy’s. Anything they try to say at this point will only make them look more guilty.

Scott does everything he can think of to try and make things better, but there’s really nothing he can do. 

She feels lost, alone and broken by the time they arrive in London. 

“Who do I need to fight?” Jordan says, when she meets them at the airport. “Cause it’s been well established that, I will cut a bitch.”

She’s never been so happy to see her sister.

“Do you think you could take my girl out for lunch?” Scott asks and hands Jordan Tessa’s bag once she’s done giving him a hug. “I have something to do to day.”

“Like you were ever invited in the first place,” Jordan punches him in the shoulder and the leads her away, doesn’t even let her kiss him goodbye.

“So other than the internet bullshit, how are you?” Jordan asks at lunch.

“There’s not much to my life but the internet bullshit. Everyone hates me, so that’s fun.” She takes some of Jordan’s fries because she deserves them.

“I don’t hate you. Richard probably still doesn’t either. Mom’s like lukewarm about you and Scott and his Scottyconda seem pretty happy to see you,” Jordan explains, while she shoves food in her mouth.

“His what?”

“I’ve seen the pictures. You need to tell that boy to wear a dance belt. I’m worried he’s going to poke your eye out in that pussy eating lift you guys do.”

Honestly, Jordan shouldn’t be allowed out in public.

“I really didn’t need to know that people were discussing his…” she drops her voice so people around her can’t hear, even though Jordan practically yelled it earlier. “…Scottyconda.

Unlike her sister, she’s a fucking lady. 

“Better that than calling you a slut.”

“Jordan!”

“Well, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but do you have to yell it?” 

“I don’t have to, but it made you feel better for a little while,” Jordan gives her a smile and shoves another fry in her mouth.

She loves her fucking sister.

 

Jordan is insistent that they head to their mom’s house after lunch, no matter how much she insists that she needs to get to the rink. Since there’s no point in arguing with her sister, she goes along for the ride.

Her mother is waiting for her at the door, a bit of a sour look on her face.

“You’re late,” she says.

“For what?”

“Has it started yet?” Jordan answers as they both ignore her. 

“No.”

“Then we’re not late.”

Jordan shoves her into the living room where the TV is already on. Then forces her onto the couch. The women sit on either side of her.

The commercial ends and the Social comes on. She's known one of the hosts, Lainey for a few years and is happy to see her face when she appears on screen.

“And we’re back, with a very special interview. Joining us live via satellite is Scott Moir and his former partner, Amy Ivanov.”

“What?” she asks as Scott and Amy appear on a split screen.

“Just shut the fuck up and watch,” Jordan says and Kate gives her a sour look but nods in agreement.

“So Scott and Amy, you’ve been the subject of a lot of speculation and rumours lately,” Lainey says.

“We sure have,” agrees Scott. He flashes the smile that makes women far and wide sigh. “And we were hoping to clear a few things up.” 

“So a few days ago an interview with Amy that seemed to suggest your relationship with your current partner Tessa Virtue, started before yours with Amy ended.”

“Amy called me in tears, wanting to clear things up,” Scott explains as Amy nods in agreement. “And we’re so thankful for that you gave us the opportunity to do so.”

“Amy?”

“Oh, Lainey, I was just so horrified when I read the interview. That reporter took everything I said out of context,” she even tears up a little as she speaks. Tessa doesn’t believe a word of it. Especially after the next thing she says sounds like she’s reading it from a card. “I want to make it absolutely clear that Scott and I had mutually agreed to end our relationship before either of us started our current relationships.”

“T and I went to Amy’s wedding!” Scott jokes.

“And it was so much fun,” Amy coos. “He was practically my best man.”

She has to choke back a laugh as Jordan rolls her eyes so hard it looks painful. Even Kate clicks her tongue in disapproval.

“I’m so glad we cleared that up,” Lainey says and smiles her full reporter smile.

“Could I just add something?” Scott asks.

“Of course.”

“I just wanted to say that sometimes how a relationship starts can be messy and complicated, but in spite of that it can still be the best thing that ever happened. I know that I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have Tessa in my life. She smart and funny and beautiful and everyday she makes me a better guy. I love you, T.”

Her stupid idiot of a boyfriend is crying by the end of his speech, so of course she starts blubbering too. Even Kate looks like she might squeeze out a tear or two. Jordan of course just smirks, but she’s dead inside.

Lainey is so flustered that someone else has to throw to the next segment. Her phone lights up with notifications, but she shoves it into her bag. She’s only interested in hearing from one person.

Kate follows her to the door. 

She gives her a hug and says, “You chose well.”

 

They get their own hotel room that night.

“Your mom was really nice to me tonight,” he says to her later that night. They’d been lying in bed naked for hours. Neither of them interested in getting dressed or starting something again. “It was weird.”

“I love you,” she says without thinking.

They both just stare at each other for a minute.

“Shit! I didn’t mean…” she doesn’t move, can feel panic invade every cell of her body.

“You didn’t mean you love me?” He looks so hurt when only a moment before he’d looked so hopeful.

“No. I do. I love you.”

The smile returns to his face. The same one stretches across hers. He reaches up and strokes her cheek.

“I didn't mean to say it like this.”

“How did you mean to say it?” he asks quietly, carefully.

“Well, I didn’t picture me naked.”

“Funny, that’s exactly how I pictured it.”

She swats him, but she laughs.

How did she picture it? She's not sure, but the words have been like a steady drum in her heart all day long, maybe longer, maybe as long as she’s known him. The beating just grew louder and louder until, she couldn't keep them in anymore.

“So, how did you picture it?” he asks as he starts to play with her hair.

“It doesn’t matter. I just…I love you, and not because of today, well also because of today, but because of everything you’ve ever done for me or with me or to me.” She doesn’t know how to put all the things that she’s feeling into words. They just swirl around in her head and come out jumbled and confused. In the end there’s really only three words that count. “I just love love and that’s all that matters.”

“You’re right. That is all that matters.”

They snuggle in a little closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rookandpawn1 over on Twitter, if you'd like to say hi.
> 
> You can check out my other stories if you're so inclined by clicking on my name at the top. You probably already know that, but it took me forever to figure it out.


	14. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought I was never going to post another chapter. I was starting to think the same thing.
> 
> Thanks to LPM for her editing, and Walkinrobe for her support.

He doesn’t believe in perfection. 

But if he did, he just might think that his life was perfect. Tess is the world’s best girlfriend, not even showing signs of being ready to bolt at any minute, anymore. Living with her is surprisingly easy. He knows the world sees him as an extrovert, but he needs the down time just as much as she does and they're good about giving each other space.

Plus, admitting she loves him has sent her libido into overdrive, which he didn’t think was possible. Not that he’s complaining, even if he is a little tired.

And the skating. They’re skating better than they ever have before. Better, he thinks, than they have in their entire lives. He knows they’re going to win everything, this is their year. He can feel it.

He loves their programs. The rhythm dance is all Prince music, it’s fun and sexy and Tessa in that jumpsuit outfit is doing something to his sex drive that’s leaving her tired. And their free dance, a piece about losing and finding love, is the one place he can show the world just how much he loves her.

Because crazy horniness aside, Tessa is absolutely, positively not comfortable with public displays of affection. It’s a bit of an issue, because he’s a tactile guy.

And she’s a sexy woman.

And he really wants to touch her all the time.

But after he tried to kiss her in the kiss and cry area at the Autumn Classic, and she looked at him like she was going to take off her skate and use to to slit his throat, he got the message.

They came to a compromise. Well, the compromise was she got her way and he had to live with it, but he doesn’t mind at all.

Well, he minds a little but if that’s the only disagreement in their relationship, he can live with it.

Except there are other disagreements and most of them are easy to work their way through. Like her complete and totally inability to load the dishwasher or his incapacity to stop making noise like a toddler learning the trombone on precious Sunday mornings that are the only time they have to sleep in. They both agree to try harder. They both fail spectacularly. But she doesn’t load the dishwasher correctly anyway, so he doesn’t mind doing it, and she’d sleep through all of Sunday if he didn’t stomp around like an elephant.

He’s only winning one argument.

“Tell me how you got Amy to appear on TV,” she whispers to him at practice.

“Some things are just a secret,” he whispers back and she pouts for half an hour.

“How did you get Amy to say all those things?” she asks over dinner and he kisses her instead of answering.

She asks him when he’s just waking up and when he’s about to fall asleep, hoping to catch him in a vulnerable moment. She gets other people to ask him. She sends 43 text messages which he answers with increasingly ridiculous emojis. 

Because the more she wants to know, the more he has fun not telling her.

After a couple of weeks she stops asking. And they go back to compromising, which works well, until it doesn’t. Thanksgiving and how to spend it turns somewhat contentious. So, they decide to hold their discussion while naked.

She wants to stay in Montreal and order Chinese food.

He talks her out of that one with a well-thought out argument that involves his tongue and fingers. 

While she’s still in distracted he also talks her out of spending the holiday with Richard and Joseph.

In a moment of weakness, that can only be blamed on how persuasive her mouth is when it’s wrapped around his cock, he agrees to only spending two days at home, instead the four he was hoping for. He doesn’t put up much of a fight, but in his defence, she has a very talented mouth. And tongue, and sometimes teeth.

They reach the mutually satisfying conclusion that they should have dinner at the Moirs and invite the Virtues when neither of them can hold out anymore. He was willing to give her anything at that moment, but it seemed so was she, so he calls it a win.

When you negotiate naked, even when you win you lose.

At least it seems like a victory, until they actually arrive at his parents house.

Tessa takes one look at the single bed they’re supposed to share in his childhood bedroom and laughs so hard she almost pees her pants. His mother won’t listen to reason when he tries to book a hotel room, which is how he ends up sleeping on an air mattress that deflates half way through the night. If only T had let him keep his old air mattress. That thing never let him down.

He blames the mattress for the lack of sleep and he blames the lack of sleep for how grumpy he is the next morning. When his brothers arrive, he’s less than thrilled to see them and he’s always thrilled to see them.

“So you actually talked her into acknowledging your presence,” Charlie laughs and digs an elbow into his side.

“How long do we give it before she dumps his ass?” is Danny’s helpful contribution.

Lack of sleep makes him realize that his brothers are a bag of dicks.

“Now boys,” Alma interrupts. Thank goodness for mothers who love their sons unconditionally. “I’m sure she’ll stay with him until at least after the Olympics.”

Betrayed! By his own mother.

“Chinese food is looking real good right now, isn’t it Moir?” Tessa whispers in his ear and gives his thigh a squeeze. 

He really should listen only to her. 

Ever.

After lunch, a nap and an interrupted make out session, damn his mom and her bat-like hearing, he starts to remember why he wanted to come home for the holidays when his mom sends him and his brothers out to rake leaves.

Of course, they only rake leaves for a few minutes until someone (Charlie) calls someone else (Scott) a dickhead, and a full blown leaf fight ensues. He’s just proved his worth as a man, by stuffing leaves down Danny’s shirt, when Tessa comes out of the house with Alma to watch. She stands on the sidewalk and watches, sipping hot chocolate (he should probably warn her that his father is a little heavy handed with the schnapps) and chatting with his mom, while he and Danny launch Charlie into the biggest pile.

As soon as he convinces Charlie not to kill him, a discussion that takes three circuits around the house before he gets winded and gives up, he joins her on the sidewalk. He kisses her pink with cold nose, hands her hot chocolate to his mother and hoists her over his shoulder. She screams all the way to the leaf pile.

“I will rip off your balls if you throw me into those leaves,” she yells as she half heartedly bangs her fists on his back.

“You might as well,” Danny bellows. “You already own them.”

And with that he tosses her into the leaves.

“Moir!” she screams, but she’s already giggling.

He waits thirty seconds and then jumps in too, careful to land beside her. When he rolls on top of her she laughs so hard it makes him want to do caveman things to her. She kisses him, trapping his bottom lip between her teeth.

“Get a room!” Danny and Charlie yell at the same time and then high five.

“We have one but the air mattress popped,” he yells back and Tess laughs harder, then drives her hips up into his, a move that no one can see, but he can certainly feel.

“Scotty!” 

“Not like that, ma,” he whines as he pulls the still giggling Tessa to her feet. “Let’s grab a shower.”

“Separately!” Alma calls after them as they head into the house.

“She does know we have sex all the time in Montreal, right?” she fake whispers and slaps his butt.

“You’re going to get me in trouble.” Something about being in his childhood home always turns him into a teenage boy. Only teenage Scott never had anything like Tessa in his life or his room, or now that the idea is in her head, his shower. He shakes the idea out of his head, even if his dick is still fully engaged. “Your family is going to be here soon.”

“Right, because what’s going to help in the situation is adding Jordan.” She starts giggling again.

“Oh, God. Jordan.”

“We could have been sitting in our apartment, eating Chinese food,” she gives his dick a squeeze before disappearing into his room, where she calls back to him. “Naked.”

He really should listen to her more.

 

His father has always been an oasis of calm.

Thank God, because the Moir house is chaos. It’s even worse than normal, and normal is pretty fucking chaotic. Between his brothers, their families, some cousins and their families, the house is packed to the rafters. His mom is in a tizzy, worrying over the arrival of the Virtues, and that their house isn’t fancy enough for the visitors. Since his mother isn’t a worrier, her panic is making him panic. And Tess seems to have disappeared. Not that he can blame her. He wishes he could disappear.

He finds Joe in the garage. 

“What are you doing?” he asks. It’s cold in the garage and he should have worn a coat, but there’s no way he’s going back inside.

“Organizing boxes,” his father answers with a nod.

“Can I help?”

“Don’t see why not.” He hands Scott a box, and shows him where to stack it with a crick of his head.

They work in silence for a while. It’s the only silence he’s experienced in days. 

“She’s a good person, your Tessa,” his father says after they’ve moved about half the boxes from one side of the garage to the other. “I hope you know how lucky you are.”

“I do.” He can’t help the smile that breaks out across his face.

“And I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you.” His dad stops, puts his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Cause you’re a good person, too. Never forget that.”

“I’ll try.”

They nod at each other and continue moving boxes.

Tessa arrives once they’ve moved all the boxes, with his coat wrapped over her arm and carrying two mugs.

“Is this Alma’s hot chocolate?” Joe asks skeptically. “I’d like to still be standing by the time dinner rolls around.”

“I grabbed it before any additions could be made,” she says with a wink.

“Well, a little addition never hurt anyone,” Joe gives them a salute before leaving the garage.

“How long do you think he’ll be gone?” she asks as she plunks herself down on the nearest box to him.

“Could be a couple minutes, could be an hour. Depends if Ma finds a prospect for him or not. Why?”

“Wanna live dangerously?” she cocks an eyebrow at him, and pulls him towards her by the hem of his shirt.

“Tess…” he hisses and throws a look at the door. “Are you crazy?”

“Horny,” she corrects and works her hands under his shirt, stroking his abs in the way that makes him stop thinking.

“My dad could come back at any minute.”

“We can be fast.”

She’s already unbuckling his pants and who’s he kidding, he was never going to say no. So instead of arguing, he leans down and kisses her.

“Promise you’ll be quiet,” he manages when he comes up for air. It’s hard to think clearly with her hands down his pants. Plus she’s shoved her shirt up and all he can think about using his mouth for is getting his tongue on her nipple.

“Fast and quiet…” She loses track of her thoughts as he takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks. Her moan echoes through the garage. “That’s a lot to ask.”

She’s worked his pants down to just past his ass, and he stops her there. Best they be able to redress quickly, not that anyone isn’t going to know exactly what’s going on if they walk in on them.

He wants to touch her so bad. To get his hands and his mouth on her pussy, where they haven’t been in days. What is it about this woman that he can never get enough? Never wants to get enough.

She seems to agree with him, shoving her leggings down and she mouths at his neck. Her hands frantic and shaking. He loves that she wants and needs him in the same way he does. 

“God, I love you,” he says as he leaves her nipple and finds her mouth. Pours everything he has into the kiss. Sometimes he doesn’t think she understands how much she means to him, how in such as short time he can’t even begin to imagine his life without her.

“I lo…” she starts but her words turn into moans and his fingers stop teasing her and work her clit in earnest. They don’t have much time and he wants to make sure she’s fully satisfied before they get interrupted. He knows exactly how to work her, what to do when he wants to take his time, but he also knows exactly what to do to get her there quickly. In no time she’s shaking and groaning so loud that he has to cover her mouth with his other hand.

“I want,” she breathes out, grabbing desperately at his ass when he swats her hand away from his cock. There’s only one place he wants to come and that’s buried deep inside of her. She takes a deep breath and tries again. The look of concentration on her face makes him love her even more. “I want to come with you inside me.”

She doesn’t have to ask him twice, so he spins her around and and bends her over the nearest set of stacked boxes. He’s just about to ease himself in, when she clenches her legs tight, trapping his dick between her thighs.

“Tell me how you got Amy to appear on TV,” she smiles the most evil smile at him over her shoulder.

“Fuck, woman.”

“You’ll get to as soon as you tell me.” She wiggles her hips a little. He can only groan in response. “Your dad could come back at any moment, Moir.”

“T…”

“All you have to do is tell me what I want to know and all this could be yours.” She squeezes a little more.

He wished he was a stronger man, but he’s powerless. Why did he ever think he could win? Whatever it is, he’ll give her everything, anything in his power.

“I had copies of everything saved just in case,” he pants into her ear and pinches her nipple. She groans and he wants to be inside her so very badly. “I threatened to out her to the world. How she cheated on me, everything.”

He never really would have, but he made Amy think he would. Having two older brothers and a very observant mother has made him an excellent liar.

With a nod, she eases her thighs open. He doesn’t take his time, pushing into her in with one hard thrust. She gasps, and then drives her hips backward. They can’t go slow, both of them are frantic.

“I’m so close, baby,” she mumbles, reaches back to pull at his hair.

“Me too.” He uses every bit of his core strength and Olympic stamina to drive into her, over and over again.

“Tessa?” His father’s voice through the door instantly stills him.

“Yes?” How she manages to keep her voice steady and light stuns him. 

“Your family is here.” 

“Keep going!” she hisses, and he knows when to follow a direct order. 

“We’ll be right there!” he answers for her, trying not to sound like he’s not balls deep in the woman he loves. “Tessa’s just helping me with something.”

“Hurry up,” his father calls at the same time Tessa hisses the same words.

With that he lets loose in a way he never has before. With only a few more thrust, she’s coming so hard, her legs are shaking. He holds her up through the last thorough thrusts, finally, finally coming with a groan he silences into her neck.

 

They get redressed, faster than any quick change and tumble into the house. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair looks like, well it looks like she’s just been fucked. Hopefully, everyone is already too drunk to notice.

The crowd certainly looks well into the cups, as he looks around the room. Kate already has that two wine glow and his own mother is leaning to the right in the way she does when she’s very tipsy. He thinks they might have gotten away with it.

They get separated almost immediately as his sister in law pulls Tess in one direction and his brother calls him into the kitchen and hands him a beer.

As he watches the crowd talk too loud and tell stories they’ve all heard a million times before, he knows that this is exactly why he wanted to come home for Thanksgiving, and see Tessa fit right in with everyone. To see her not only tolerate but thrive around his family, is everything he ever wants.

“Just an FYI,” Jordan says as she sidles up beside him. “Sound really reverberates through that garage.”

He turns and stares at her, has to remind himself to close his mouth, as he catches sight of a terrified looking Tessa being handed one of the many babies in attendance.

“But because she sounded like she was having a really good time I told my mother that you must have raccoons.” Jordan clinks his beer bottle and walks away with a wink.

As he watches Tessa’s expression turn from terror to acceptance and then finally melt into love at the baby in her arms, he finds that he just can’t bring himself to care about Jordan’s snide remarks.

 

Their season couldn’t be going better. They take Skate Canada by a staggering margin. Everything is easy and feels right. Nothing can stop them.

He’s packing for NHK, excited to go head to head against the French for the first time, when the phone call comes and everything changes.


	15. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rough one to write. Thanks as always to LPM for the editing and Walkinrobe who always encourages me and always knows the right questions to ask to make me better. Everyone should be as blessed to have friends like them.

He’s sitting on the couch staring at the wall when she finally makes it home. Just sitting there, with a blank expression on his face, not moving. He’s always in motion, this man she loves. Fingers twitching, knees bounding, talking, laughing, crying. To see him like this is terrifying.

“Scott?” she whispers. He doesn’t look at her as she sits down beside him. “Your mom called me while I was the drug store. Babe, look at me.”

“Tess?” he answers, as if he had no idea she was there. Finally, finally he reaches out blindly for her hand. His hand is cold when she grabs it. Another cause for worry. He’s never cold.

“Your mom told me. I’m so sorry.”

He just keeps looking at the fucking wall. She wants to reach out and make him look at her, but if staring at the wall is what he needs then she’ll let him. She’d give him anything in her power if she could just make it better.

They sit in silence for a long time, as the day changes into evening and as the world goes on around them. He clutches at her hand and she waits.

“There’s not even time to say goodbye.” It’s been so long since he spoke that she startles at the sound.

“We’ll make time.”

“NHK, we have to leave tomorrow,” he mumbles so much that she can just barely hear him, but he also shakes his head, which she sees as progress.

“Then we better get our asses in the car.”

“T, I…” He looks at her, his face is still blank, but there’s a spark in his eyes.

“Get moving, Moir.”

She drives. 

She hates driving, but she doesn’t trust him behind the wheel and driving makes her feel in charge. Like she might actually be able to do something to help him.

He sits in the passenger seat with his head on the window and stares at the road. They hit the road at 7:30 at night, which should have them arriving in Ilderton at 2:30am, good thing she has a thermos full of coffee and a rocking play list because she doesn't think she can count on conversation to keep her awake.

All their bags for NHK are in the back and she had Jordan book them an afternoon flight from London to Montreal, that should get them there in time for their connecting flight to Japan. And if they don’t, well, there are more important things than skating. 

Just outside Cornwall, a Hall and Oats song comes on her playlist and she cranks up the volume to obnoxious levels to try and annoy him out of his torpor, but he just shifts in his seat and doesn’t say a word. She sings along, but he doesn't even flinch.

On the other side of Kingston, he finally speaks. “Could we take a bathroom break?”

She’s had to pee for at least forty-five minutes, but she was hoping he wouldn’t be able to ignore the inevitable call of nature, and actually speak to her. It’s cold at the rest stop, but the air is crisp and clean and she finds him staring up at the star filled sky, taking long deep breaths when she comes out of the bathroom. He takes three more breaths, before he wraps her in a hug.

“Thank you,” he whispers into her hair.

He holds her hand when they get back in the car, and doesn’t let go until he falls asleep near Hamilton.

When they set out, she was concerned she’d have trouble staying alert for the whole drive, but she’s so worried about him that she’s wired. She’s never lost anyone significant before, is pretty sure that he hasn’t either, and isn’t certain how he’s going to weather this storm. He’s always given off the aura that he slides through life untouched by sadness, but he’s also lead a charmed existence. Other than the break up with Amy, he hasn’t had to deal with sorrow, but maybe his sunny disposition will help him. If not, she’ll be there to be strong for him.

They arrive at his parent’s house ten minutes ahead of schedule. She may have a lead foot, but who can blame her when she’s basically alone on open highway. Alma is waiting for them, sleepy eyed and obviously upset.

“He’s so lucky to have you,” Alma whispers as she and Tessa follow the barely conscious Scott up to his old room. He only takes off his shoes before sliding into the single bed.

“I meant for you two to sleep in the spare room, there’s a double in there.” Alma explains, pink tinting her cheeks.

“We’ll make do,” she says through a yawn. Now that they’ve stopped, the fatigue is setting in.

“Thank you for doing this. He wouldn’t be okay, if he didn’t get to say goodbye.” Alma throws her arms around Tessa and gives her the same kind of hug she often gets from her own mother. It’s warm and comforting, and she has to choke back the sob forming at the back of her throat.

She takes her time brushing her teeth, washing her face and changing into her pyjamas, trying to decide whether she should bunk in the guest room or sacrifice what little sleep she’s going to get in favour of sleeping in a single bed with Scott. In the end, there’s only one choice.

He rouses slightly as she eases in next to him. Just enough to kiss her on the forehead and whisper, “I love you.”

 

She wakes early to the sound activity in the kitchen and the smells of a home cooked breakfast. Scott doesn’t move as she sits up, so she leaves him behind to sleep. She isn’t sure if sleep is the best antidote to grief but it certainly helps when you’re sick and need healing, and his heart definitely needs healing.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Alma gives her a sad smile as she enters the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

She should be sticking to her training diet, their NHK short dance is less than seventy-two hours away, but that french toast is calling to her enough that she nods and decides to skip lunch. Possibly dinner as well, as she gets a whiff of the bacon.

“They said we can come over around eleven. He should be lucid and relatively pain free.” Alma winces at her words, instantly schools her face back into a gentle smile. “Will that work for getting on your flight?”

It’ll be close, but she doesn’t want Alma to worry, this has to be just as hard on her. She’d watched the boys grow up together, been a second mother to him, she must be devastated but doing her best not to let on.

“Nothing to worry about,” she agrees, as Joe hands her a section of the newspaper and nods.

 

She has to wake Scott up. She’s never had to wake him. Usually he’s up and pestering her well before dawn with his good moods and strong coffee, but he’s still sound asleep when she comes back into the room.

He wakes with a snort, clearly confused, “Where?”

“Your parent’s house.” She watches as he relaxes and then rememberers, the pain and loss crashing back across his face, and then seeping into his body. He grabs blindly and pulls her into a hug.

“Right,” he breathes, nods his head as his shoulders sag. “Right.”

 

The Moirs go to say goodbye without her. 

She agonizes about going with them and in the end she knows that this is a moment they need together. That it’s not about her and she would only be in the way. When no one argues with her decision, she knows she’s made the right one.

So she stays behind and obsessively checks their flights and when she can’t handle the uncertainty of flights and connections, she cleans. No one would describe her as a domestic goddess, not given the way she refuses to have anything to do with the kitchen and cooking. It’s not that she can’t cook, she just has zero interest in it. But she hates mess, so she can clean like it’s her job. By the time the Moirs return home, the kitchen is sparkling. The linens in Scott’s room and the guest bedroom are clean and folded and the living room is tidied, vacuumed and dusted. She’s showered and changed as well, and everything is ready to go directly to the airport.

Scott walks into the house, doesn’t look at her instead taking the stairs two at a time and slamming the bedroom door behind him. When she turns to his parents, Alma’s eyes are red rimmed and Joe looks like he’s just barely holding it together.

“Maybe,” Alma says her voice cracking. “Just give him a minute.”

Alma clutches her hands together three times before wandering into the kitchen. Joe just nods before following. She considers heading upstairs before sitting down on the couch and checking to see if there’s a later flight. There isn’t.

With fifteen minutes left until they absolutely have to leave for the airport and still no sign of Scott, she takes a deep breath and heads up the stairs. He’s sitting on the bed, staring at the wall again, but this time slowly wrapping and untangling a knitted scarf around his hands.

“Babe?” she calls to him from the doorway. He turns at the sound of her voice and smiles at her. His smile is more heartbreaking than any tears could ever be. There’s no happiness in his body, she can’t find the joy that normally inhabits every part of him.

“Sorry?” It comes out almost as a question, as if he’s not quite sure what to say.

She should tell him it’s time to go, that they have to leave immediately, instead she says, “What’s that?”

“Oh,” He looks down at the scarf, as if he forgot it was there. “He gave it to me, for, uh, luck.”

She sits down next to him and his whole body collapses. She takes his weight willingly, the way he’s shouldered hers. In some ways she wishes he would cry, just let go of everything he’s holding in, but they both know it’s going to take a long time to come back when he does.

“Is it time to go?”

“We don’t have to go. We could just skip it.”

‘That’s… We can’t do that!” His adamant answer is the most emotion he’s shown in twenty-four hours and it’s almost a relief to see. “We need to win at NHK if we’re going to have any chance of winning Worlds.”

“Do you think I give a fuck about Worlds, about skating when you’re hurting?” she yells back, and fucking hell if that doesn’t feel good. “If you don’t want to go, we’re not going. You’re more important than winning.”

He grabs her and kisses her. Pulls at her hair as he devours her. It’s not soft and gentle, her lips feel bruised and tingly when they’re done, but she can see a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there before. 

“I love you so much,” he says as he puts his forehead to hers, winds his free hand into her hair.  
“I’m so glad we stopped hating each other.”

“You never hated me,” she teases.

“No I didn’t.”

“Want to know a secret?” she asks and he nods. “I never hated you either.”

He pulls away a little and kisses her on the nose. “When do we have to leave?”

“Like ten minutes ago.”

He jumps up, hauling her with him.

“Are we going to be able to make it?” he asks wrapping the scarf around his neck, pulling her out of the room. 

“That depends on how fast your dad drives.” She can’t help the giggle that escapes her. He looks shocked for a moment but then gives her a real smile.

“If we need to go fast, then we better let my mom drive.”

 

Alma missed her calling as a race car driver, but they get there just as check-in is closing. Actually, they miss the deadline but sometimes being the favoured children of London, Ontario gets you through the airport even when you’re late.

He takes the window seat and immediately retreats into himself. They generally keep to themselves on flights, using the time to decompress and relax, so the silence doesn’t worry her but the way he grips her hand does.

They have to sprint to make their connection, she knew they would when she had Jordan make the reservation, but they make it. She’s less sure about their bags but figures the two minutes of happiness that Scott manages as they sprint through the airport hand in hand are worth whatever problems they’ll end up with in Japan.

“You should take the window,” he offers as they board the plane. “You look exhausted.”

This is truly why she loves him. Even in the midst of his fog of grief he still manages to put her first. She thinks about protesting, but in the end she knows that taking care of her makes him happier than his own comfort. She wishes she could be that selfless.

“Thanks,” she falls asleep just after takeoff, her hand in his and her head on his shoulder.

She drifts in and out of consciousness for most of the trip, it’s a surreal half sleep where she often doesn’t know if she’s awake or dreaming. Almost feels stuck somewhere in-between. It’s not particularly restful, but she’ll take whatever she can get.

Whenever she wakes up, Scott is doing the same thing. There’s a movie on in front of him but he’s staring at it rather than watching in and he’s wearing headphones that she suspects aren’t connected. He pats her hand reassuringly every time she stirs, so she knows he’s still semi aware but still she worries about the way he’s withdrawing.

When breakfast is served, she gives up on any pretence of sleeping. She’s starving and grouchy.

“Don’t tell anyone, ok?” he says, as she does her best to stretch in the limited space available.

“Marie already knows.” She’d needed to explain the change in plans.

“No one else. I don’t need their pity.” He doesn’t add that he would never want the judges to go easy on him, even if he might deserve a little leniency.

“No one,” she promises. She’ll make sure that Marie doesn’t say anything but knows she won’t even need the warning. The number of secrets that woman holds is truly staggering. Tessa would bet that she doesn’t even tell Patch.

As soon as the plane lands, they’re absorbed into the routine and craziness of competition and Scott looks almost relieved. He immediately snaps into performance mode and if you didn’t know him as well as she does, you wouldn’t know there was anything wrong. She always laughs when people think he isn’t an actor, because the Scott he shows the world - that’s all acting. The relationship they show the world, a performance too.

They’re way behind schedule and have to head straight to the rink, but at least their skates made the connection. He’s all smiles and handshakes as they greet the others, makes Zach Donahue laugh hysterically ten minutes after they arrive. Flirts with all the ladies until they blush. She used to think he flirted unconsciously, that it was just a part of his personality. Now she sees it for what it is, a competition technique. He’ll do almost anything to win.

He’s steely eyed and focused as they hit the ice, but she can see the pain and exhaustion when he looks at her. He’ll let his guard down when he thinks no one is looking, and those brief flashes of grief leave her breathless and agitated. She’s the one who can’t quite get it together during practise, missing a twizzle and slipping out of a hand hold during a lift. He’s there to catch her. He always is.

“Bunch of us are going out to get a drink,” Zach calls after them as they make their way out of the arena. “You guys in?”

She wracks her brain for a believable excuse. She never wants to go out before a competition but Scott is always game, sees it as an opportunity to psych out the competition. What excuse can she make that won’t seem suspicious?

“Gonna call it an early night,” Scott says before she has a chance. He exaggerates a yawn and puts his arm around her, before winking “Not as young as we used to be.”

“Sure, that’s what they’re calling it now,” Zach leers back.

Scott throws some finger guns at him and she tries to fight back the puke rising in her throat. It’s not that everyone doesn’t know they’re fucking, that incident with the closet at the rink but an end to the mystery, but she doesn’t want Zach being all suggestive about it.

“Gross,” she mumbles through her smile at Zach. Scott just squeezes her hand a little harder.

As soon as they arrive in their hotel room, he collapses on the bed his with friend’s scarf wrapped around his hands. She climbs onto the bed and holds him until he falls asleep, and spends the rest of the night worrying.

They make it through the rhythm dance. He’s not quite there, no one else would notice, but she does and she overcompensates as a result. He makes a bunch of tiny mistakes, but the judges don’t seem to notice and they end up in first. She’s not sure either of them care.

 

The call comes. She knows it can’t be good news when she sees Alma’s name, but braces herself when she realizes it’s Joe on the other end of the line.

“Tess,” his voice cracks. “He’s gone.”

“Oh, Joe. I’m so sorry.” She can’t imagine how devastated Alma must be if Joe, who is barely holding it together, is making the phone call.

“Just…” he stops and takes a deep breath. “Just hug Scotty for me please.”

“I won’t let him go unless I have to.”

“Do you want me to tell him?”

“I’ll do it.” She can’t imagine either of them getting through that conversation.

“I’m so glad he has you.” Joe can barely speak through his tears and immediately hangs up.

Scott’s standing there when she turns around. He just nods and she knows he overheard.

“We don’t have to compete, we can just withdraw. Everyone would understand.” The free skate is in two hours.

“No,” he says as she wraps her arms around him. He doesn’t sink into her, he doesn’t kiss her cheek or her hair. He just stands stock still. “I want to… I need to compete.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

 

He’s physically there when they take the ice, but mentally somewhere else entirely. 

“Are you ok?” she asks as they hit centre.

“Fine,” he murmurs. His eyes are dead.

They start with their backs to one another. Not ideal from her perspective, she wants to see his face. She knows he’s not okay, how could he be, but she thinks he’s better when they’re connected. So she reaches her fingers out, strokes his palm a little. He doesn’t respond, and the look of worry on her face as the music starts isn’t acting, it’s genuine. He skates flawlessly, makes all the right faces, but he’s not there with her. It’s like skating with a different person. 

 

When they finish, she grabs his hair a little harder than usual, holds on a little longer. He smiles at her as he stands up, and for a moment her Scott is there, until the light winks out in his eyes, and he’s gone again. They win and it means nothing.

He’s like that for the rest of their time in Japan. He pretends to be fine around everyone else, but as soon as they’re alone, he shuts down. She keeps waiting for him to break down and cry, to show how broken he is, but he doesn’t. It’s like he’s disappeared into his mind, and is on autopilot. She tries everything she can to reach him. Comfort, seduction, she even gets angry with him, but nothing penetrates the wall he’s built.

“They want me to speak at the funeral,” he says on the plane home. It’s the first conversation he’s initiated with her since Joe called. “I don’t want you to come.”

“Oh,” he might as well have stuck a knife in her heart. It would have hurt less.

Even worse, he offers no further explanation, just slips his headphones on and doesn’t speak for the rest of the flight. She turns her head towards the window, so he can’t see her cry.

He gets on a plane to London when they land, a detail he failed to mention. She gets in a cab and cries all the way to their apartment. She cries until she’s angry. Then she calls Jordan.

“What did that motherfucker do?” Jordan yells as soon as Tessa offers a tearful hello. “If he cheated on you I will rip his dick off.”

“Scott would never cheat on me!” She’s so shocked by the idea that Jordan would even think so, that she stops crying.

“Of course he wouldn’t, but it made you stop crying,” Jordan cackles.

“I don’t know why I called you. You’re no help at all. I should have called Mel and PJ.”

“Look, those two are fun after a couple margaritas and if you want to talk make up and shopping. But the only person who’s going to tell it to you straight is me, babycakes.”

She hates it when her sister is right.

“I’m not on his side or anything,” Jordan offers, after Tessa explains the situation. “But I think you just have to let him be right now. People do all kinds of weird shit when they’re grieving and it’s almost never the weird shit you think they’re going to do.”

“But…”

“I know you want to be there for him, but you gotta let him figure out when he needs that to be. If he needs space, you have to let him have that.”

Fuck, she really hates it when her sister is right.

“Just let him know you’re here for him and he’ll come to you when he’s ready.”

“I’m not good at being patient,” she grumbles.

“I’m aware.” Tessa can hear Jordan’s raised eyebrow through the phone. “But he was incredibly patient while you figured your shit out, so maybe you could do the same for him.”

“I was expecting you to just tell me I was right.”

“Then you probably should have phoned someone else.” Jordan laughs as she hangs up.

She considers throwing her phone across the room but doesn’t want to damage it, so she throws a pillow across the room instead. Jordan is both annoying and right. 

She sends him a text:

I hope you’re ok. I’m here when you need me.

And heads to bed. Alone.

 

He’s gone for three days and he sends three texts.

I’m ok.

Every day for three days.

I’m ok.

She’s dying to call him, to help him, but she heeds Jordan’s advice and gives him the space he needs. She does break down on the second day and call Alma, because she can’t take the not knowing anymore. 

“It’s been rough honey, but he’s okay,” Alma assures her. 

She’s so sick of that word, she might punch the next person who uses it around her. She really, really hopes it’s Zach fucking Donahue.

Scott walks through the door when she’s sitting on the couch eating dinner. He just walks in through the door, like that’s a completely acceptable thing to do.

“I drove the car back,” he says after they’ve stared at each other for several minutes.

“You look like shit.” It’s not what she meant to say, she meant to say something supportive and loving but she’s still a little angry, even though she shouldn’t be. And to be fair, he does look like shit. Dark circles under his, eyes that are red and puffy. His hair is a mess and he looks like he’s given up shaving, because that pathetic moustache he tries to grow sometimes is back.

A variety of emotions transform his face, one after another, confusion, hurt, anger until suddenly he explodes with laughter. He laughs so hard he drops his bags on the floor.

“I did not expect you to say that.” He’s still chuckling, wiping tears from his eyes as he sits down beside her. He leans in for a kiss and she pulls away.

“You are not kissing me with that thing on your face.”

“Really, you don’t like it?” he strokes his basically non-existent moustache. “All the other ladies find it very sexy.”

“Name any. And your mother doesn’t count.”

“Mom told me to get that gross caterpillar off my face before I went home,” he laughs again. The grief is still there in his eyes, but there’s something more now. Acceptance, maybe.

“You should listen to your mother.” Alma is her hero.

“She also said I should call you.” He takes her hand and she lets him, because she’s weak for him and there’s no point in punishing him, even if she’s mad. “I should have listened to her.”

“Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you let me come with you?”

He takes a deep breath, and starts to speak, then stops. She waits, while he takes several more breaths and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that.” He won’t look her in the eye.

Of all the things she expected him to say, this wasn’t even on the list. She’d been sure that he didn’t think she was good at being supportive, and he would have been right, because she’d never been good at it in the past. Ran from it in fact.

“But that’s the point,” she says before the words have entirely formed in her mind, so they aren’t exactly what she wants to say but when are they ever. “That’s the point of being in a relationship; to show each other the good and the bad and to be there for it.”

“You sound like you’re making your marriage vows,” he says and still won’t look at her. 

Nope, she’s not even acknowledging that comment. “It’s not like you haven’t seen all my bad stuff, and we weren’t even in a relationship then.”

“But, I’m supposed to be the strong one.” His voice cracks a little. 

“Says who?”

“Isn’t that how it’s worked so far?” 

She grabs his chin and makes him look at her as they squeeze each other’s hands so hard, she’s sure they’ll leave bruises. The same kind of bruises they’ve left over each other’s hearts.

“Well, I’m saying that it doesn’t have to anymore,” she says.

A giant, wracking sob rips through him and he collapses onto her. She takes all his weight. She’s not sure how long he’s been holding back tears, maybe he even made it through the funeral without crying, but she’s knows he’s been holding back for too long because once he starts crying, he can’t stop. Can't seem to control the flood of tears.

She holds him while he cries. Doesn’t care how long it takes. Doesn’t move when her shoulder starts to hurt. Even cries with him for awhile, she didn't know his friend, but it kills her to see him in this much pain. Hates that he ever has to feel like this.

When the torrent of tears have passed, she leads him into the bedroom, where they strip down to their underwear without speaking and climb into bed together. He wraps himself around her back and fists a protective handful of hair.

They lay there for awhile, and she thinks he’s asleep, until she feels a gentle lingering kiss on the back of her neck. Then another, and another. 

He stops just as suddenly as he starts.

“Why did you stop?” she asks when it becomes clear he’s not just teasing her as he does sometimes.

“Is it wrong?”he asks. “It feels wrong that I still get to laugh, and love and exist when he’s never going to get any of that again.

“Do you think he’d want you to give up living your life?” she turns so they’re nose to nose and slips her arms around him. “Do you think he would want that for anyone?”

“No, he was a great guy. He always wanted the best for everyone.”

“Then I don’t think you have anything to feel guilty about.” She kisses him, lets her lips linger, warm and solid against his, until he finally takes her up on her offer and kisses her back.

They move slowly, savouring each other, lingering, because it’s been too long, but they also need the other to know they’re there, that they always will be. As long as they can, as long as the other is willing. She gives him everything she can, and it’s different, more intimate than ever before. They’re both crying by the end, but she thinks a little better. She never knew that sex could be like this, healing.

“I should have brought you to the funeral. It was hell without you.” He pulls her close, tucks her head under his chin. Now that they’ve found their way back to each other, he wants her as close as possible at all times. “The only time I feel better is when you’re holding my hand and I really could have used that then.”

“Let’s not make that mistake again,” she says and he hums an agreement. Somehow, she doesn’t think he will ever make the same mistake.

“I don’t know if I could handle losing you,” he murmurs a long time afterwards. “I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

“I can’t promise forever, no one can, but you’re stuck with me for as long as it’s under my control.” She tickles his ribs, loves it when he giggles uncontrollably, and holds her hands over her head so she’ll stop. “And you’re stronger than you think.”

“I love you,” he says out of breath. His eyes are still sad, will be for a long time, but she sees the glimmer of him there, finally.

“And if you can’t handle it, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

“I’m counting on it,” he sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm @rookandpawn1 over on Twitter, drop by and say hi.


	16. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a fun, silly chapter in the midst of all the angst.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to Walkinrobe and LPM who make this possible through their love, support, editing and general badassery.

He’s always known that he makes stupid decisions when he’s drinking. He just wished he’d remembered that Tessa also turned into a moron when she was drinking. If he’d had that information, maybe better choices would have been made. It turns out that not only are they morons when they drink, they also make potentially disastrous life choices.

It starts with a snow storm. They thought they’d been through snow storms before.

They were wrong.

Environment Canada warned them. But as all good Canadians know, Environment Canada gets it wrong more often than right. So like any good Canadian, they completely ignored the warnings about the upcoming snowpocalypse.

He wakes up at four thirty am, to find a foot of new fallen snow outside his window, but he figures they’re probably near the end of the storm. And really, what’s a foot of snow to a seasoned Montrealer anyway? He really does like to think of himself as a seasoned Montrealer now, and possibly forever.

When he rouses a sullen and defiant Tessa a half hour later, he expects the storm to have tapered off, but if anything, it’s gotten worse. He can no longer see down the street and it seems darker than when he woke up.

“I won’t go. You can’t make me.” She picks up the closest thing and throws it at him. As she is often belligerent in the morning, he’s taken precautions and only put soft things within arms reach of the bed. Her old stuffed panda lands safely a foot from where he’s standing.

“It’s really snowing.”

That gets her attention, and her head pops up from under the covers. “Is practice cancelled?”

He’s already checked his phone twice. No word from the rink.

“‘Fraid not.”

She makes a dissatisfied noise and dives back under the covers. He tries tickling her feet to get her up. She tries to distract him with sex. Neither works for long. He promises her a quickie in the shower, knowing she’ll forget he did as soon as she’s in there.

He can just barely make out the apartment across the street when she takes the cup of coffee out of his hand. He already had his coffee, was just waiting with hers.

“Weren’t we going to have sex in the shower?” The thought occurs to her suddenly, five sips in.

“I don’t remember that,” he answers evenly.

She blinks at him twice, he’s sure she’s searching her memory, and then turns her attention to the window. “And practice isn’t cancelled?”

“Nope.”

“We should walk,” they both agree at the same time.

Luckily their car is safely tucked away in the underground parking, but he’s positive it wouldn’t have made it half a kilometre before he would have ended up in a snow bank.

They bundle up and make it halfway down the street, before Tessa grabs his arm and almost takes him down with her. He doesn’t let her fall, he never would.

“Babe?” she manages through chattering teeth. The tips of her eyelashes are frozen and her cheeks are the pinkest he’s ever seen. 

“Fuck it,” he answers. “Let’s go home.”

They slip and slide their way home but it’s fun this time. She even throws at snowball at him. He thinks about revenge, but she looks so pathetically cold, that he takes pity on her. Once they’re inside, they abandon their already soaked snow gear in the front hall. He knows they should lay it out carefully, so that it’s dry when they need it next, but he can’t be bothered.

“Can we go back to bed?” Her eyes are shining with glee. Nothing makes the woman he loves happier than the prospect of a few extra hours of sleep.

“Race ya,” he says and takes off before she’s had a chance to react. He lets her catch up to him near the bed and she tackles him. They collapse onto the bed, a tangle of arms and legs, and he sighs in contentment.

It’s been a hard few months. It had taken him a considerable amount of time to climb out of the hard pit of grief he’d been trapped in, and he isn’t sure he could have without her help. Still gets hit by an overwhelming sense of loss at the most unexpected times. Thinks he’s better and then sinks right back down again. Like he promised her, he doesn’t make the mistake of shutting her out again. He leans on her hard. Sometimes, he thinks too hard, but she’s the strongest person he’s ever known, so she shoulders the load without complaint.

But this moment on the bed, wrapped around each other, buried under a stack of blankets while the world outside is buried under a covering of snow, this moment makes all the pain and sometimes anger disappear. Makes everything right.

 

He wakes up sticky with sweat and cotton brained, in a way that tells him he slept far longer than he should have. Tessa is still wrapped around him, which explains why he’s sweaty. She’s completely unconscious, drool pooling on her pillow, and she doesn’t stir and he moves her arms and eases out of bed. 

A quick check of the window confirms that Montreal is blanketed in snow and it’s still coming down. Patch has returned his text message in the three hours they’ve been asleep, with an emphatic “stay home, and likely tomorrow as well”. They’re only six weeks away from Worlds, but he imagines that some rest will do them as much good as time in the rink.

He doesn’t want to get cocky, that’s never worked out for him in the past, but they’re winning everything, and by a significant margin. The more they win, the more sullen the French are towards them. The other day, he overheard them complaining that he and T have ruined the family atmosphere in the rink. He speaks more French than he lets on. 

They haven’t wanted to be complacent, so they’d been training hard. Possibly harder than they should be, especially given T’s legs. Despite her promise to tell him when she’s hurting, she rarely does and he’d been worried about her lately. A day or possibly two might be just the thing she needs.

He’s just finishing cooking up a huge breakfast, eggs, bacon, pancakes, when she comes stumbling out of the bedroom.

“I smell food,” she mumbles as she makes a beeline for the coffee. He loves seeing her like this, well rested and relaxed, so that she hasn’t put up her usual mask. She lets it slip around him occasionally, but she so used to keeping everything hidden, that she does it unconsciously now. Right that moment she might as well be twelve, for how open and innocent she looks. “I don’t think bacon is on our diet plan.”

“I checked and calories consumed during a snow storm don’t count.”

“I’m not sure B2ten would agree.”

“I checked their website, we’re all good,” he winks at her as he puts down a heaping plate of food on her side of the table.

“I’ll just have to work it off later.” She slaps his ass as she walks by and takes her seat.

He loves watching her eat when she’s super hungry, and not worried about calories or anyone watching. She savours each bite and then tells him how much she’s enjoying the food. Doesn’t care that there’s syrup on her chin, or that she dropped eggs in her lap.

“I’m so full,” she says through a mouthful of food, pushing her plate out of the way.

He’s about to answer when there’s a knock at the door. Tessa dashes to answer it. While she’s on her way, there’s more knocking.

Knock, knock, knock.

And then two voices singing. One much better than the other, but not nearly as bad as Tessa’s tone deaf warbling.

Tessa stops short to listen.

“Tessa? Do you want to build a snowman? Come on, let's go and play! I never see you anymore.  
Come out the door. It's like you've gone away. We used to be best buddies. And now we're not,  
I wish you would tell me why! Do you want to build a snowman?”

She throws open the door to find Mel and PJ on the other side. Both women are so bundled up that you can barely see their faces, and both are wet from the snow.

“It doesn't have to be a snowman,” Tessa finishes dramatically, but very off key. She squeals and throws her arms around the women.

“But it would be better if it was a snowman,” PJ says when Tessa disengages. “Because that was the whole reason we came.”

“How did you guys get here?” he asks, because Tessa is already tearing through the pile outdoor wear they left by the front door. She makes a face at her still damp mitten, but he goes to the closet and finds her another pair. He gets a kiss for his efforts, and makes a mental note that mittens equal kisses.

“I just live around the corner,” Mel says, slightly muffled through her two or possibly three scarves.

“And I have snow shoes,” PJ explains.

“You have snow shoes?” He can’t quite comprehend the idea.

“How else am I supposed to get to work on days like this?” 

He wants to ask more questions, but Tessa starts pulling at his sleeve like an excited puppy. 

“Come on, get dressed! We have a snowman to make!”

 

In a surprise to no one, Mel takes charge of the snowman building. She splits Tessa and him up, so they won’t get distracted by busy hands. He and PJ are sent to work on rolling the bottom ball of the snowman while she and Tessa discuss design aesthetics. 

“You do know they’re just making us do all the work, right,” he says when they’re about halfway through making the first ball for the snowman. He’s already sweating. Rolling snow is harder work that he expected.

“I know!” PJ smiles from ear to ear. “Suckers.”

She goes back to enthusiastically rolling snow. He’s not as sure about the project until Tessa gifts him with a wink full of promise. The sooner this snowman gets built, the sooner they can get rid of Mel and PJ and get to working off that breakfast.

They’re about halfway through the snowman, excuse him, snowperson, as the two non workers have decided, when it starts.

He’s bent over helping PJ roll the middle ball on top of the bottom one, when a snowball hits him right in the ass. He immediately focuses on Tess, expecting to find a guilty look on her face, but she looks equally surprised by the snowball sliding down the side of her jacket.

After a barrage of snowballs is launched in their direction it becomes clear that they are under attack. But from who?

“Behind the snowperson!” Tessa barks, and he’s momentarily stunned into immobility by the appearance of bossy Tessa. Bossy Tessa is one of his favourite Tessas. “Move that fine ass, Moir.”

Luckily, PJ tackles him and he ends up behind the half finished snowperson, just as the next barrage of snowballs hit.

“What the hell?” he yells as a couple snowballs make it over the barrier and hit him in the back.

“It’s the kids from down the street,” Tessa yells back. “Fuckers.”

“There’s like ten of them,” Mel says. He peeks over the top of the snowperson to see a line of kids, all with a pile of snowballs beside them. From what he can tell they range in age from five to twelve, but the smallest one worries him the most. She looks like she’s familiar with satan and all his works.

“You throw this,” Mel says handing him a snowball. It’s only then that he notices the pile of snowballs beside him. She must have been making them while he was busy ducking. “I’ll call for back up.”

He’s contemplating who exactly she might call for back up, when PJ reaches over and grabs the snowball out of his hands. She takes aim and hits one of the kids square in the chest so hard, that he rocks on his feet and almost goes down.

“What?” she says when he just stares at her. “I had four older brothers. You learn how to protect yourself.”

PJ goes back to throwing snowballs and he’s trying to decide if he really wants Tessa to see how weak his throwing arm is, when Tessa whispers in his ear.

“There’s this thing I can do with my tongue that I haven’t shared with you yet.” Her voice is low and throaty and his imagination goes places that it really shouldn’t. “If you hit six kids, then I’ll show you tonight.”

Instantly motivated, he hits six kids in ten tries. He might be ready for the major leagues. 

By the time backup arrives in the form of Mel’s boyfriend Justin and PJ’s on air partner, and maybe love interest, he’s hazy on the details, there are only a few kids left. The five year old from the bowels of hell is holding her ground. There seems to be a shield of some kind around her, possibly generated through some sort of deal with the devil.

“As I see it,” Justin says once he’s been briefed on the situation. “If we take out the little one, their entire alliance will crumble and we’ll win.”

“That’s exactly right!” Mel gushes and then kisses Justin. They’re so in love, it would be sickening if he weren’t sure that he looks at Tessa exactly the same way. “But, has anyone considered the moral implications of a bunch of adults pelting a five year old with snowballs?”

“She started it!” Both he and Tessa point out at the same time and high five at their brilliance.

“PJ, what do you think?” Nick asks, his radio voice gone, made shy with emotion.

“I…” she starts, makes eye contact with Nick, turns red and stops talking completely.

“We…” Nick makes eye contact with her, turns red and stops talking.

“Their radio show must be really fascinating to listen to,” he whispers to Tessa who’s watching the non-conversation with horror.

“They’re fine at work. Should I tell them that they should just get the fuck over it?”

He doesn’t get a chance to tell her that she might not be the best authority on “getting the fuck over it” when they’re hit by a new snowball attack.

All the adults dive for cover, and start to pack snowballs, except for Mel who looks both skeptical and worried.

“Guys, I really think we need to stop and think about this. There are some very small children over there and…” She stops when a snowball hits her full in the face. The snow seems to fall off her face in slow motion. She looks over at the kids and growls, “Kill the fuckers.”

They stand up in unison, snowballs ready.

“Three, two, one…” the f in fire is forming on her lips when a voice rings out across the road.

“Angelica, snack time! Come inside.”

With that the five year old drops her snowball, sticks out her tongue and scampers away.  
The other kids drift away after her.

“I knew that bitch was the ringleader,” Mel cries.

“Fuck it, let’s go get drunk,” Tessa says throwing a snowball after one of the retreating kids and almost hitting her mark.

She’s perfect, this woman he’s chosen to love. Absolutely perfect.

 

He swears, searching the fuzzy recesses of his brain, that her never meant to get this drunk. He thinks the plan was to have one drink, and then send the others home so he could have his way with Tessa. But after drink number one, drink number two seemed only polite and then someone, he’s going to blame Justin, put on music. If there’s music, Tessa’s going to start dancing, and oh lord, that woman can dance. So he needed drink number three just to stop himself from drooling. And once drink number three is in his belly, all the subsequent drinks are inevitable. 

At some point pizza arrived. He’s not sure who ordered it, but he was so gleeful at its arrival, that he tipped the driver twenty dollars.

Looking around, he’s not the only one who’s transitioned into sloppy drunk. Tess is listing to the right as she dances, a definite sign that she’s pleasantly drunk. Mel is sitting on Justin’s lap and he’s pretty sure they’re halfway to third base. And Nick is sitting in a corner with his beer bottle resting just below his bottom lip, trying not to look like he’s watching PJ. 

Only PJ, whose expression shifts between horrified and amused, is sober.

“Are you just really good at holding your liquor?” he asks her as he plops down next to her on the couch. He’d been dancing with Tessa, but needed to sit down before he did anything embarrassing.

“I…” she gives him a confused look. “I don’t drink.”

“Right, we’ve had this conversation before.” His drink spills a little as he talks. He knows tequila is evil, but sometimes he has to answer its siren call. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Nick is looking at you.”

“Because I’m not not drunk, I have noticed.”

“Are you going to give him a break and go out with him?”

“Scott, I know you think you’re whispering but you are not,” PJ answers. “Nick is still married, so dating him would not be appropriate.”

“I’m trying to get a divorce, it’s just really hard,” Nick explains.

“It is my understanding people getting divorced shouldn’t spend the night at their ex’s apartment,” she gives her answer directly to Scott, her mouth a hardline, that he can’t help but stare at.

“I had to look after the cat,”

“You’re allergic to cats.”

“If you would just…”

But Nick doesn’t get a chance to finish his slightly slurry thought because Mel screams and falls off of Justin’s lap.

“No, no, no, no, no!” she chants at him from her spot on the floor. He feels like he should go help her, but his brain works in slow motion when he’s drunk.

“What do you mean no?” Justin looks like he’s about to cry.

“It doesn’t count,” Mel answers, managing to pull herself up to all fours but no further. 

“But I mean it!”

“You can’t ask me to marry you like that!” She screams back. Someone gasps. It might be Tess. It might be him. “It doesn’t count when we’re drunk and you don’t have a ring and your hand is on my boob.”

“I have a ring!” he yells back. PJ grabs his arm.

“Here?” Both Mel and Tessa ask.

“No. In my sock drawer at home. I was waiting for the right time.”

“Now isn’t it!” Everyone yells back, including, Scott is surprised to find, himself. When he proposes to Tessa he’s going to do a much better job.

“You just said that out loud,” PJ whispers to him.

“Do you think anyone heard?” He whispers back, but if the way Tess is staring at him is any indication, he already knows the answer. Luckily, Mel finally makes it to her feet, after three attempts and distracts everyone.

“We’re going home,” she announces. When Justin starts to talk she cuts him off with a raised finger, and because he isn’t the stupidest man alive, he shuts up. They watch in painful silence, as Mel and Justin get dressed and leave.

“Baby…” they can hear him say as the door closes behind them.

“Do you think they’re going to be ok?’ PJ finds her voice first, but her eyes are the size of saucers. 

“They’ll argue until they get home, then they’ll fuck and she’ll say yes,” Tessa says, burps and starts to list to the left. He gets up and kisses her hard. She’s the shit.

“Ok, so it’s time for us to go,” PJ announces, half way to the door.

“Me too?” Nick looks so hopeful that Scott would feel sorry for him if he didn’t want him gone so badly. Tessa has that look in her eyes and he hasn’t forgotten about that tongue thing. His brain would never betray him like that, no matter how much alcohol he’s consumed.

“Yes,” Scott, Tessa and PJ agree.

“I can’t feel my feet,” Nick says after a couple attempts to get up.

PJ just shakes her head, walks over to him and hauls him to his feet.

“I am never spending time with you drunken motherfucking assholes again,” she mumbles as she helps Nick into his coat and boots. The whole process takes longer than necessary because he keeps trying to stroke her hair.

“You’re so beautiful.” He tries to stroke her face but misses and ends up swatting her nose.

“Thank you for your hospitality.” She shoves Nick through the door and slams it after her.

“Hey, babe,” he starts but Tessa isn’t where he left her in the living room. He finds her in the kitchen with a mouthful of chips.

“I was hungry,” she explains, looking mildly guilty.

“Do you want to eat or do you want to fuck?” He knows what he wants to do.

“Yeah, that thing,” she drops the chips to the floor, steps over the ones that scatter around her. “Let’s do that thing.”

 

He swears it’s usually easier to get her undressed. 

But first her head gets stuck in her turtleneck and neither of them can figure out how to get it out, which makes them laugh so hard that they have to sit down in the hall.

“Ah ha!” she yells, when she finally gets her head free. Her hair is all staticky and sticking up but he thinks she looks so incredibly beautiful. At least he thinks that until he gets distracted by the teeny, tiny lace bra she’s wearing.

“Have I seen this before?” he strokes the outline of the lace. She shivers and stops laughing. So does he.

“I was saving it for special occasion.”

He wants to ask her if this qualifies as a special occasion, but his tongue wants to taste the places that his fingers already explored. She gasps and grabs his hair, urging him on. She tastes as good as he remembers, slightly sweaty from the snowball fight, but so perfectly Tess. Before long, her teeny tiny bra is very much in the way, so he eases his hand around her back to make quick work of the clasp.

“T,” he stops and looks at her. “I don’t think I remember how to undo your bra.”

“Tequila will fuck you up like that.”

Fortunately, she is brilliant and still remembers how clasps work, removing her bra expertly before flinging it in his face. She starts giggling again, but he finds absolutely nothing funny about the way her boobs move when she laughs.

“Can we go into the bedroom?” The hallway is nice, but the bedroom is even better.

“That’s such a good idea!” She leaps up and sprints to the bedroom still listing to the left. He takes the opportunity to watch her ass, before he takes off after her. She’s waiting for him at the end of the bed and she’s somehow removed all her clothes.

“You look really good naked.”

“So do you, but you still have all your clothes on,” she says as she moves to where he’s standing. “Would you like some help with that?”

He doesn’t have a chance to answer, before she pulling off his shirt, skimming her hands over his pecs. Her hands are on his belt before he even had a chance to realize his shirt is on the floor.

“You’re not going to get whiskey dick on me, are you?” she asks as she pulls down his zipper, torturously slow.

“I’ve been drinking tequila.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You tell me.” He leans into her hand and if he hadn’t already been hard, that would have been enough to take care of any alcohol related problems.

“Perfect,” she answers and makes quick work of his remaining clothes while he gets to work on her neck and her shoulders, any place he can reach.

He doesn’t take his mouth off her as they make their way to the bed. His hands finding a home on her ass at the same time hers find his. When her knees hit the bed, he lays her down and slowly parts her legs.

“I don’t need…” she starts, but can barely get the words through the moan she makes when his breath hits her pussy.

“But I do.” Because there’s nothing he likes better than the taste of her. Nothing he likes better than the sounds he can pull out of her when his mouth is on her pussy, in her pussy. 

He takes his time, has no desire to rush. Even when she pulls at his hair. When she drives her heels into his ass, forces her hips up into his face. She’s shaking with the effort of holding back her orgasm when she hauls him up to her face.

“I want you in me when I come,” she pants.

He nods and kisses her long and slow before he lines himself up.

“Wait.” Somewhere in the fuzzy recesses of his mind something pings. “I feel like we’re forgetting something.”

“Cock goes in pussy, Moir. That’s all you need to remember.” She urging him on with her heels, and he’s right there, but something is still there, right on the edge of his brain. “Are you sure?”

“That your cock goes in my pussy?” she’s pink with the effort of holding back. “Yes, and hopefully repeatedly.” 

Her argument is compelling, so he doesn’t hold back, filling her in one swift move.

The moan that comes from her makes every worry he ever had disappear, and sets him moving at a pace that impresses even him.

A mere three trusts and she’s coming. A litany of fucks in his ear as she shakes. It takes him longer, but he falls over the edge as she wraps her arms around him and hangs on for the ride.

He rolls off of her, but keeps his hand firmly on her thigh, reluctant to be fully parted from her. It isn’t long before sleep and alcohol are clawing at his brain. Her deep breathing telling him she’s in exactly the same state.

“Today was a good day,” he says. His head and his heart are filled with how much he loves her.

“The best day,” she agrees, pulling the duvet up over them and snuggling in tight.

 

He wakes up naked, alone and with a pounding headache. All three of those things are enough out of the ordinary that it takes him a minute to remember why and how he arrived at his current state.

“Moir?” he hears Tessa yell from the kitchen, and he’d panic if he could actually move. She appears in the doorway looking as rough as he feels. “How drunk did we get last night?”

“I’m going to go with very.”

She flops down beside him, and the tiny movement of the mattress makes his stomach roll.

“There are chips all over the floor,” she says, and he notices that she’s wearing sunglasses. He’s confused and jealous. “I blame you.”

“It’s probably my fault.” He doesn’t remember chips, but it sounds like something he would do.

“You’re cleaning it up.”

“Do we have practice today?” If there is a god and he hasn’t displeased him/her, the answer will be no.

“Not this morning, but Patch texted to say they expect us there in the afternoon.”

“We’re going to suck.”

“Are we ever,” she agrees and pats his chest. They’re quiet for a minute. He’d go back to sleep, if the drum kit played by several trained yowling cheetahs in his head would stop. Instead he tries to piece together the events of the night before.

“Did Justin propose to Mel last night?” The events get very fuzzy after that. “Badly?”

“Yup.”

“Have you heard from her?” 

“That’s why I’m awake already. They made up, he proposed again. They’re blissfully and screechingly happy. My head hurts.”

At great personal cost, he sits up and lets her rest against his chest. She sighs when he massages her temples.

“We definitely can’t get drunk like that until after the Olympics,” he says.

“Nope, but it sure was fun.” She kisses his shoulder and smiles.

Fun, but not without consequences, as they find out at the worst possible time.


End file.
